Tap, tap, thud; but, oh, how the moments lagged; how the deadly gas increased; how the sharp teeth of hunger gnawed; how feebly burned the flame of the little lamp; how narrow grew the issue between life and death!
A time had come when Bennie could be no longer roused to consciousness, when the brain itself had grown torpid, and the tongue refused to act.
Tap! tap! louder and louder; they were coming near, men’s voices could be heard; thud! thud! the prison-wall began to tremble with the heavy blows; but the hours went slipping by into the darkness, and, over the rude couch, whereon the blind boy lay, the angel of death hung motionless, with pinions poised for flight.
“O God!” prayed Tom; “O dear God, let Bennie live until they come!”
[CHAPTER VIII.]
OUT OF DARKNESS.
It was with a light heart that the Widow Taylor kissed her two boys good-by that morning in December, and watched them as they disappeared into the fading darkness. When they were gone she went about her household duties with a song on her lips. She did not often sing when she was alone; but this was such a pretty little song of a mother and her boy, that on this happy winter morning she could not choose but sing it.
Hers were such noble boys, such bright, brave boys! They had given her heart and life to begin the struggle for bread, on that awful day when she found herself homeless, moneyless, among strangers in a strange land; when, in answer to her eager question for her husband, she had been told that he had met an untimely death, and was already lying in his grave.
But, as she had toiled and trusted, her sons had grown, both in stature and in grace, till they had become, indeed, her crown of rejoicing.