“My baby, my little Christmas baby,” she murmured tenderly. “Did the priest baptize her this morning, Reuben? Oh! how could you overlook it, dear? Then you must do it. Now—now!”
There was an excited ring in her voice, and Reuben hastened to do at once what he had felt from the first must soon be done; for the baby’s life evidently hung upon a thread. A few drops of water, a few divine words, and Esther’s eyes shone exultingly upon her child.
“She will never be anything but God’s child,” she said. “Oh! I am glad she cannot live. It is the other children, that are not his, that you must care for, Reuben.”
“No, no!” he cried. “No, Esther, I cannot live without you.”
“Listen, Reuben,” she said. Lying there with her child upon her arm, she looked like a vision of the Holy Mother herself, and when she spoke her voice had a tone in
it which seemed divinely sweet. “Listen, Reuben. This place is God’s. He wants it. You must live and not die—for him.”
“O Esther!” he sobbed, “not without you—not without you.”
“Yes, Reuben, without me—all alone. My darling, my darling, save these little children’s souls for God.”
One greater than she spoke, on that holy night, through Esther’s lips, and touched and won her husband’s wounded heart.
“I will, Esther,” he sobbed. “I will try hard”; and even then, upon that solemn parting, as if to stamp the promise with an awful seal, the tavern clamor broke shrill and vile upon the Christmas air.