She glanced at her sick husband, at his pale, emaciated face, and tears fell from her eyes.
During the week she has no time to think how unhappy she is. Parnosseh, housework, attendance on the children and the sick man—these things take up all her time and thought. She is glad when it comes to bedtime, and she can fall, dead tired, onto her bed.
But on Sabbath, the day of rest, she has time to think over her hard lot and all her misery and to cry herself out.
"When will there be an end of my troubles and suffering?" she asked herself, and could give no answer whatever to the question beyond despairing tears. She saw no ray of hope lighting her future, only a great, wide, shoreless sea of trouble.
It flashed across her:
"When he dies, things will be easier."
But the thought of his death only increased her apprehension.
It brought with it before her eyes the dreadful words: widow, orphans, poor little fatherless children....
These alarmed her more than her present distress.
How can children grow up without a father? Now, even though he's ill, he keeps an eye on them, tells them to say their prayers and to study. Who is to watch over them if he dies?