“I must go out and look for my little child! I must, Anna! I must! I cannot live through this horrible night if I stay in this house!” she cried.
“Drusa, consider! you can do no good by going out to-night, but much harm. You could not find little Lenny, but you would lose yourself. You have already done all that you possibly could do for his recovery. Having done so, leave the result to Heaven.”
“Oh, if we could only know where he is!”
“We shall find out to-morrow, no doubt. The advertisements will be read; the posters will be seen; the large reward offered will stimulate inquiry; the detective police will be on the alert; and, in, all human probability, before this time to-morrow little Lenny will be in your arms! and grandpa, and Dick, and who knows but Alick, too, will all be here rejoicing with you in your child’s restoration! Drusilla, this cloud may have a silver lining; this transient trial may bring about a great happiness,” said Anna, speaking with perhaps more cheerful confidence than she really felt.
“Heaven grant it! Oh, Heaven in its mercy grant it! But till then! But to-night! Oh, how shall I live through this horrible night! How will my little child endure it? my tender little child, who was never away from me before! And, oh, in what wretchedness he may be! in what terror! in what danger! crying for his mother to come and take him, and she knows not where to find him!”
“Drusilla! Drusilla! use your own excellent judgment. Is it likely at all that the child should be in danger to-night, or even in terror? Children live and thrive in the lowest haunts of London. The men who stole him for his father will of course take the best possible care of him in order to deliver him in the best condition and to get their money; so he will be in no danger; and as for his being in terror, little Lenny is a ‘game boy,’ afraid of nothing on earth, neither of ‘thunder nor horses,’ as he once told me, much less of men; and as to crying for you, he is probably by this time fast asleep, and well watched, for his abductors know that he is a treasure that will bring money to their ragged pockets.”
“Oh, if I could think so!—oh, if I could think so. Oh, if I could only know where he is—know where I might lay my hand on him to-night, or to-morrow, I might be at something like peace; but oh, Anna, it is distracting, it is maddening to feel that in all this huge, crowded city I do not know where he is!”
“Drusilla,” said Anna, laying her hand upon the young mother’s shoulder, looking in her eyes, speaking sweetly and solemnly, and appealing to the deepest feelings of the young Christian’s soul. “Drusilla, if we do not know where little Lenny is to-night, his Heavenly Father does. He sees him, watches over him, protects him. What would your knowledge of his whereabouts, or your power to protect him, be to that of his Heavenly Father, whose eyes are over all his works, who is as all-merciful as he is all-mighty. Take this faith home to your heart and let it comfort you.”
“Oh, Anna, that does comfort me. To think that the Lord knows where he is, though I do not; the Lord can take care of him, though I cannot. Oh, I thought no one but the thieves could know where little Lenny is to-night; but behold the Lord knows! And I feared that I could do nothing more for him to-night; but behold I can pray to the Lord for him. I will spend the night in praying for him!” said the bereaved mother, growing somewhat more composed.
But there was no going to bed in the ladies’ apartments that night.