Besides all this, how he longed to be able to ask the minister what he ought to do about Jessica’s mother! But whether for instruction in the pulpit or for counsel in private the minister’s voice was hushed; and Daniel’s heart was not a whit lighter, as he slowly descended the pulpit steps.
It was getting on for noon before Jessica followed him, bringing his dinner with her in a little basket. Her eyes were red with tears, and she was very quiet while he ate with a poor appetite the food she set before him. He felt reluctant to ask after her mother; but when the meal was finished Jessica drew near to him, and took hold of his hand in both her own.
“Mr. Daniel,” she said, very sorrowfully, “when mother awoke this morning I told her everything about Jesus Christ, and God, and heaven; and she knew it all before! Before I was born, she said!”
“Ah!” ejaculated Daniel, but not in a tone of surprise; only because Jessica paused and looked mournfully into his face.
“Yes,” continued Jessica, shaking her head hopelessly, “she knew about it, and she never told me; never! She never spoke of God at all, only when she was cursing. I don’t know now anything that’ll make her a good woman. I thought that if she only heard what I said she’d love God, but she only laughed at me, and said it’s an old story. I don’t know what can be done for her now.”
Jessica’s tears were falling fast again, and Daniel did not know how to comfort her. There was little hope, he knew, of a woman so enslaved by drunkenness being brought back again to religion and God.
“If the minister could only see her!” said Jessica. “He speaks as if he had seen God, and talked to him sometimes; and she’d be sure to believe him. I don’t know how to say the right things.”
“No, no!” answered Daniel. “She saw him on Sunday, before he had the stroke, and he talked a long time to her. No! she won’t be changed by him.”
“She’s my mother, you know,” repeated Jessica anxiously.
“Ay!” said Daniel, “and that puzzles me, Jessica; I don’t know what to do.”