... tell them all they would have told,
And bring her babe, and make her boast,
Till even those that miss'd her most
Shall count new things as dear as old.
Margaret felt the sadness of it herself, with a profound and keen sympathy. She hastened to give the child back to Rachel, and laid her hand, with a gentle and friendly pressure, on Andrew's shoulder.
"You know I was fond of Sophy," she said, "and how could I help but grieve over her, when I saw Rachel so often troubled? But why do you give up hope? She may yet come home any day; and perhaps bring a dear child with her. God may have given to her a child to be a comfort to her. Only God knows."
"Ay! He knows," answered Andrew, "if He didn't know it otherwise, I tell Him every day; every hour of every day, for the cry after her is always in my heart. But it could never be the same again. If it was all right with her, would she have kept silence over eight years? I had only one daughter, like your father; and she has brought me to grief and shame."
"But in one sense it must be right with her," said Margaret, "for God is with her. He has not lost sight of her; and though it may possibly be that she has sinned, and is still sinning, yet that way also leads to God, when sin is repented of."
"But to think that God sees her in all her degradation!" he cried passionately. "Oh, if I could only find her, and hide her away from all the world! hide her away from God Himself. No, no, Miss Margaret; it's no comfort to think that God Almighty sees my daughter in her sin and shame. And that man who robbed me of my only child—O Lord, set Thou a wicked man over him, and let Satan stand at his right hand. When he shall be judged, let him be condemned; and let his prayer be turned into sin. Let his children be fatherless, and his wife a widow. Let his children be continually vagabonds. Let the iniquity of his fathers be remembered by the Lord, and let not the sin of his mother be blotted out. As he loved cursing, let it come——"
"Oh, hush, hush!" cried Margaret, breaking in upon his rapid and vehement utterance with difficulty, while the tears streamed down her face, "oh, be silent! It is a terrible thing to utter these words as a prayer to God. For God loves us all; even him whom you are cursing. Some day you will say, 'Father, forgive him; he did not know what he was doing.'"
"Never!" he exclaimed, lifting up his haggard face, and fastening his bloodshot eyes upon her; "but I oughtn't to trouble you. It was only because the sight of you made me think so keen of her that's lost. All the town is glad to have you back again, Miss Margaret, for your own sake and the colonel's sake. But it will be different from the old days."
"You'll be as fond of my boy as you were of me?" she asked.
"Ay, may be," he answered.