Dinner time came; but the men didn't come back. Supper time;—then evening came on, dark and chilly, and Desire's lips grew paler every minute: still, no tidings yet of the boy. Through the long night she listened—listened—listened, till every gust of wind made her tremble like the leaves. Morning dawned,—noon came again,—then night. Then, indeed, at last they heard the tramp of heavy feet.
Desire sprang from her chair and ran toward the door, then back again to her seat, with her hands pressed tightly on her heart; then back to the door, as if her straining eye could pierce the darkness. It did, God pity her! What did she see? Her little Willy, quite dead, lying on a litter, carried by Mr. Moore and Orphy.
Poor little Willy! They had tracked him to an old shanty, in the woods, where he had gathered some dry leaves and slept. There was the mark of his little form upon the leaves. Then they tracked him out into the woods, along, along, farther than one would have thought his little feet could have carried him; and then they found him, with his little head leaning against a tree, quite dead from exhaustion and hunger.
Poor Desire! There wasn't one of those nice old farmers who wouldn't have given his farm to bring that little sleeper back to life. They took his mother's cold hands in theirs, and chafed them, and bathed her temples, and wept (strong men as they were) to think of the bitter waking she would have. But God was merciful;—she never did wake in this world. In Heaven she found her boy.
"Well, I declare! here it is New Year's morning again, and cold as Greenland, too," said Uncle Jolly, as he poked his cotton night-cap out of bed—"frost an inch thick on the windows, water all frozen in the pitcher, and I an old bachelor. Heigho! nobody to give any presents to—no little feet to come patting up to my bed to wish me 'A happy New Year.' Miserable piece of business! Wonder what ever became of that sister of mine who ran off with that poor artist? Wish she'd turn up somewhere with two or three children for me to love and pet. Heigh-ho! It's a miserable piece of business to be an old bachelor."
UNCLE JOLLY.
And Uncle Jolly broke the ice in the basin with his frost-nipped fingers, and buttoned his dressing gown tightly to his chin; then he went down stairs, swallowed a cup of coffee, an egg, and a slice of toast. Then he buttoned his surtout snugly up over them, and went out the front door into the street.