She watched while he continued in sight, forgetting, for the time, her own troubles in pity for his.
“There are so many troubles in life,” she thought; “and each one’s own seems worst to bear. When will it all end?”
Poor, drooping Lily! She had sat so long in the shadow of care that she was in danger of forgetting that there were lightsome places on the earth; and “When will it end?” came often to her lips now. Not that she was growing impatient under it; but she felt herself so weak to do or to endure.
“If I only were strong and well again! If God would only make me well again, and show me what to do!”
Mrs Stirling’s voice startled her at last.
“Come into the house, Lilias, my dear. There’s a cold wind creeping round the hill, and the ground is damp yet. You mustn’t sit longer there.”
She placed a seat for her in the bright little kitchen.
“I won’t put you into the parlour, for a fire’s pleasant yet, May though it be. Sit down here, and I’ll be through with my baking in a few minutes.”
The kettle was already singing on the hearth, and fresh cakes were toasting at the fire. After the usual Saturday tidying-up, the room was “like a new pin;” and Lilias’s eyes expressed her admiration as she looked, about her. Nancy hastened her work and finished it, and, as she seated herself on the other side of the hearth, she said:
“Well, my dear, what were you thinking to ask me?”