“Good-night,” said Daniel, kissing Jessica with more than usual tenderness; “you don’t feel as if you’d like to come back with me, now we’ve seen your mother comfortable, do you?”
“No,” answered Jessica, with a wistful look from him to her mother, who had thrown herself upon the bed and was fast asleep already. “I think I’m doing what God would like me to do; aren’t I? He knows she is my mother.”
“Ay, God bless you, my dear,” said Daniel, turning away quickly, and closing the door behind him. He stumbled down the dark stairs into the street, and returned to his desolate home, saying to himself, “I’m sure I don’t know how a Christian ought to act in this case; and there’s nobody to go and ask now.”
CHAPTER VI.
DANIEL’S PRAYER.
The two following days, Friday and Saturday, were always a busy time at the chapel, for the whole place had to be swept and dusted in preparation for the coming Sunday. Never had Daniel felt so depressed and downhearted as when he entered the chilly and empty chapel early in the morning and alone; for Jessica was to follow him by and by, when her mother had strolled away for the day to her old haunts.
Only a week ago he and Jessica had gone cheerfully about their work together, Jessica’s blithe, clear young voice echoing through the place as she sang to herself, or called to him from some far-off pew, or down from the gallery. But now everything was upset and in confusion. He mounted the pulpit steps, and after shaking the cushions, and dusting every ledge and crevice, he stood upright in a strange and solemn reverie, as he looked round upon the empty pews, which were wont to be so crowded on a Sunday.
It would make a wonderful difference to the place, he thought, if anything worse should happen to his master; for even to himself Daniel could not bear to say the sad word, death. They could never find his like again. Never! he repeated, laying his hand reverently upon the crimson cushion, where the minister’s grey head had sunk in sudden dumbness before God; and two large solemn tears forced themselves into Daniel’s eyes, and rolled slowly down his cheeks.
He did not know who ever would fill the pulpit even on the coming Sabbath; but he felt that he could never bear to stay at the chapel after its glory was departed, and see the congregation dwindling down, and growing more and more scanty every week, until only a few drowsy hearers came to listen sleepily to a lifeless preacher. No! no! That would go a good way towards breaking his heart.