I have given the utterance a point of interrogation; whether she meant that point I am not quite sure.
“Indubitably,” I returned. “I have such faith in Joe, that I should be sure of that in any case. At all events, he’s not taking care of his own life. And if one is to go wrong, I would ten thousand times rather err on that side. But I am sure Joe has been doing right, and nothing else.”
“Then there’s nothing to be said, sir, is there?” she returned, with a sigh that sounded as of relief.
I presume some of the surrounding condolers had been giving her Job’s comfort by blaming her husband.
“Do you remember, Agnes, what the Lord said to his mother when she reproached him with having left her and his father?”
“I can’t remember anything at this moment, sir,” was her touching answer.
“Then I will tell you. He said, ‘Why did you look for me? Didn’t you know that I must be about something my Father had given me to do?’ Now, Joe was and is about his Father’s business, and you must not be anxious about him. There could be no better reason for not being anxious.”
Agnes was a very quiet woman. When without a word she took my hand and kissed it, I felt what a depth there was in the feeling she could not utter. I did not withdraw my hand, for I knew that would be to rebuke her love for Joe.
“Will you come in and wait?” I said indefinitely.
“No, thank you, sir. I must go to my mother. God will look after Joe, won’t he, sir?”