Thoughts of his long-lost child stole over him ever and anon. If she had been left to him, he would have rejoiced in his good fortune the more, on her account. But she was gone.
The joy of “Cobbler” Horn was chastened by a solemn dread. A great responsibility had been laid upon him from which he would have infinitely rather been free. He prayed, with trembling, that he might prove worthy of so great a trust.
At dinner-time Miss Jemima questioned her brother as to his intentions. His answers were brief and indefinite. The matter could not be settled in a moment. In the evening they would talk things over, and decide what to do.
The evening came, and brother and sister sat before the fire.
“Jemima,” said “Cobbler” Horn, “I must accept this great responsibility.”
“You surely did not think of doing anything else?” exclaimed the startled lady.
“Well—yes—I did. The burden seemed so great that, for a time, I shrank. But the Lord has shown me my duty. I could have desired that we might have remained as we were. But there is much consolation in the thought of all the good we shall be able to do; and—well, the will of the Lord be done!”
Miss Jemima was astounded. Her brother had become rich beyond the dreams of avarice, and he talked of resignation to the will of God!
“Then you will answer the letter at once?” she said.
“Yes, to-morrow.”