That was a subject fit for a Raphael's pencil, as she, of form and feature more angelic than human, sat beside that cottage door, and her mild blue eye gazed steadfastly up to heaven, and the light of the moon disclosed to mortal view her calm and beautiful features.
Two hours previous, over a sick and languishing child a mother bowed with maternal fondness. She pressed her lips to his chilled forehead, and wiped the cold sweat from his aching brow.
"Be patient, my child," said she; "God will provide." And why did she bid him "be patient"? None could have been more so; for through the long hours of that long summer day he had lain there, suffered and endured all; yet not one sigh had arisen from his breast, not one complaint had passed his parched lips.
"I know it," said he. And the mother kissed him again, and again said,
"God will provide."
Mother and son! the one sick, the other crushed down with poverty and sorrow. Yet in this her hour of adversity her trust in the God of her fathers wavered not; she firmly relied on Him for support, whom she had never found forgetful of her. The widow and the fatherless were in that low tenement, and above was the God who had promised to protect them.
Again she whispered in the lad's ear, "God will provide."
The light of that day's sun had not rested upon food in that dwelling. Heavily the hours passed by. Each seemed longer than that which had preceded it.
A rap at the door was heard. She arose and hastened to it. No person was in sight; but in the moon's bright rays stood a basket, on which lay a card, stating that it and its contents were for her and her child, and that on the morrow a nurse and every comfort they might want would be provided.
She bowed herself beside it, and thanked God for the gift. Then with a joyful heart she carried it within, and her child's eye sparkled as he heard the glad news, that He who watcheth the sparrows had not forgotten them.