"Yes, I gave him my little pocket prayer-book!" I answered. "I thought it might be useful and a comfort to him."
"I dare say!" answered Amabel gravely, and then we were both silent for a long time, till we were called to our dinner.
At tea-time, Mrs. Thorpe told us how disappointed she was, that she should not see her nephew again. His ship was to sail with the tide at nine o'clock, and he had sent her a hasty note to say that it was impossible for him to come to bid good-bye. My heart went down as into deep cold water, but I gave no sign as Mrs. Thorpe went on praising the young sailor, saying what a dutiful son he had been to his mother, and how fast he had risen in his profession.
One only beside Amabel gave a guess at my feelings. When my good uncle bade us good-night and good-bye—for he too, was to go early in the morning—he whispered in my ear—
"Keep a good heart, my pretty! There are many more sailors come home than ever are drowned, and the winds are in the hollow of His hand."
True enough. But those who are drowned are drowned just as much, for all that. But there has been no rebellion in my heart, at least I trust not—for many a long year. I have found plenty to do, and have been made to keep house and be a joyful mother of children, though I never had one of mine own.
We had one more Sunday at St. Anne's—one more afternoon at the school, and then came a messenger from Mrs. Deborah to say, that his mistress would be in Newcastle the next day, and hoped to set out for home on Wednesday.
[CHAPTER XV.]
THE SISTERS.