'Ah, young man, soon you will be the bread-winner; your old father will then be able to sit idle by the ingle and smoke his pipe, whilst mother looks on.'
He had returned to the ingle, but Davie was still a child!
A few anxious days, and all was over; the end had come, and he and his fellow-sufferers were laid to rest beneath the fresh green turf in a distant churchyard, and the poor young widow was alone in the wide world, with only little Davie!
But the poor have no time to spare for mourning or regrets; they must be up and doing, even though their hearts fail them for very sorrow; yet none save those who have suffered can know the utter desolation of heart, crushing the very soul to the earth with despair, when the father, 'the bread-winner,' is taken from their midst, and those who are left know not where to look for help or guidance; and so this poor widow sat by the fire-light, with her boy's hand clasped in hers, gazing into the glowing embers as if trying to read the future therein. The past had been very happy, for her girlhood was spent in a far different sphere, but she had freely given up all for him who was now no more, and had never repented of the sacrifice made; but, alas! he was gone, leaving her alone, and her heart was like to break. And, musing thus, she recalled the tones of the dear voice that had ever comforted her when in sadness, now silent for ever!—the brave heart so firm of purpose that had ceased to beat!—and as she thought of him who had been so kind, so true, her courage gave way, and, burying her face in her hands, she sobbed aloud, saying,—
'Oh, Davie, Davie! who will care for us now father is gone?'
The child put his arms lovingly around her bowed head, as though it was his place to be the comforter.
'Mother darling, the Lord will care for us. He is the friend of the widow and fatherless.'
There was something in the boy's voice that struck the mother's ear, for she removed her hands from before her face, and, drawing him nearer to her, gazed earnestly into those clear blue eyes.
Sudden sorrow often changes the entire nature of people, and the events of the last few days had, as it were, transformed little Davie from a mere child into a thoughtful boy. Like his namesake of old, 'he was of a beautiful countenance,' and as he caressingly smoothed his mother's pale cheeks with his soft, gentle hands, she felt she was not desolate, since he was left to her. Long they sat in silence. At last the boy said,—