The children received her with delight, telling her, immediately upon her entrance, that Mr. Smith came from the country, and could tell beautiful stories. Mrs. Shipton thanked him gratefully for being so kind to her little ones, and began to feel more comfortable about the expediency of having admitted him into their family circle.
It was soon time for the children to go to bed; but before he left the room, little Maurice knelt down beside his mother and said his evening prayer. Mr. Smith watched the child with curious attention as he prayed, and once or twice with a sudden abruptness he cleared his throat and crossed and uncrossed his legs.
Maurice never raised his head, but went on with the simple words, "Bless dear mother, and Nellie, and Janet; and take care of Alan out on the sea this night, and bring him safe home; and bless grandfather, and take care of him now that he is an old man. For Jesus Christ's sake. Amen."
Why did the lodger start? Why did he so hastily dash his hand across his eyes, then stand up and go to his own room? When there, why did the old man let the bitter scalding tears run down his cheeks? why did those broken, mournful words come from his lips,—
"Alan! Alan! my son; would God I had died for thee, Alan, my son!" He paused, then went on more sorrowfully:—"Why, why did you leave me, if you loved me? Oh, my boy! why did you break my heart, Alan?—Dead! dead! and I am alone now; yet you taught your children to pray for the lonely old man. Bless you, my boy—too late—too late—my blessing would have made you happy in life, but now it can do nothing for you."
Then the old man put his head outside the door, and called to Ellen, who was passing, to say that he was going to bed.
But it was long before sleep came to him, for he lay thinking of the old days, long ago, when children had loved him, when life had been sunny and warm,—why had it grown so chill and cold of late? Ah, Farmer Shipton, there is but one thing which can make life full of warmth and sunshine, and that is the love of God.
