Uncle Joseph, too, had chosen to leave his vehicle at home, and seeing in the distance a familiar plump little figure, he made haste to overtake her.
For a few moments they talked together of the lesser things of life. Then they fell into silence, which was at last broken by Uncle Joseph’s voice.
“My mind has dwelt much to-day upon the Bible teaching of the relation of Ruth and Boaz.”
I am sure the throbbing heart beneath the clear muslin kerchief of Sarah Sidney must have bounded a little at this. He went on: “Has thee ever thought it over, and applied the test to our own lives?”
It certainly was not strange that the good woman hesitated before she answered:
“If thee means to ask whether it has been shown to me that I am chosen of the Lord to be thy companion, I will admit that it has; but, Joseph, thee is not an old man, nor am I a young hand-maiden.”
Uncle Joseph stopped short in his walk, and catching a frightened look upon the honest face beside him, he gravely said:
“It was not upon that relation my mind ran. I thought rather of the increased duty in this day and generation which must belong to the husbandman and his gleaners; or in other words the responsibility of him upon whom the benefits of this world have been showered, and the loud call that is ever sounding in my ear to extend help to those who need; and it has been whispered to me that thy material goods have been slipping from thee, and—and, I wished to offer my aid.”
Could one marvel if a feeling of faintness crept over the gentle Sarah, or that a beseeching look set the seal upon the awful stillness that followed? Her face grew first scarlet, then very, very white. Uncle Joseph’s voice sounded strange in her ear. She feared she should fall, but as the tones grew clearer, something else impressed her.
“Sarah, thee has a more receptive spirit than my own. I have sometimes longed to see aright in regard to the formation of a closer bond with thee, and I rejoice that through my own ill-chosen speech thee has been led to point the way.”