“Have they treated you so badly?” he said, in his grave, kind voice.
“Oh, yes!” exclaimed the poor woman, weeping bitterly, “they have took every hog, cow, and ear of corn I have, and every thing from my daughter; she is a widow, and lives near us. These are her children, my grandchildren, come to get out of the way."{1}
{Footnote 1: Her words.}
And she pointed to two or three little girls, with frightened faces, and eyes wet with tears.
Stuart seemed deeply affected. Under that stout heart, which never shrunk, was a wealth of sweetness and kindness.
“Well, they are not coming back, my good woman,” he said, in a voice of deep feeling. “You need not be afraid—they are gone now.”
The poor woman clasped her hands.
“Oh! do you believe that, child!”{1} she said; “do you believe they’ll never come back?”
{Footnote 1: Her words.}
“I hope not, at least,” Stuart replied, in a low tone.