“Observing the boy still unsatisfied, he said, ‘Go to thy rest, my son; the Lord in his own good time will do the work. At all events, if I can prevent it, blood shall never fall upon the head of Mary.’
“The next morning by dawn of day, father and son departed. Mary was not awake, for she had been so tired that she slept very soundly; and William was just allowed to kiss her cheek very softly, and deposite by her side some little baskets of willow; and he then embraced his weeping mother and hastened to join his father, who already stood by the gate waiting for him.
“When Mary awoke, she was so much disappointed because they were gone, that she could hardly keep from crying; but she saw that her mother was striving to be cheerful, so she wiped the few tears that fell upon her cheek, and folding her arms round her neck, she whispered softly, ‘Let us pray to God, mother, and he will comfort us.’ And they both knelt down and prayed, and when they rose up they were quite calm; for God never withholds a blessing from those who seek in humility of soul, and never withdraws his countenance from those who trust in him. And now, my children, I beg you to remember, whatever may be your trials and distresses, always to put your trust in God, and nothing will have power to harm you; but do not think, my children, that you must wait till distresses come—seek the love of God in the day of joy—and in the hour of sorrow he will not be far off.
“But to return to my story. Two months had passed away and Mr. Gray and William had not returned, though Mrs. Gray had heard from them occasionally.
“It was a bright afternoon in September, and Mary had taken her knitting-work and was sitting beside her mother’s arm-chair at the door of their cottage; but she could not work, for her eyes were continually wandering off in the direction of the Seekonk road; and, at every waving of the trees, or the least unusual sound, she would start from her seat, and say, ‘They are coming!’ and then run to make some addition, or alteration, to the furniture of a small round table, white as snow which was spread with bowls and spoons, brown bread and baked apples, and a pan of new milk; and then, returning to the door, she would expect to find them near; but when she looked in every direction, she saw only the few quiet looking houses of the Plantation—the wide and almost unbroken forest, and the broad road before her—but no father or brother. She had repeated this act several times, and at each successive one she was more sure that they were coming; until, at last, the continued disappointment was more than she could bear; and, clinging round her mother’s neck, she burst into tears.
“Mr. Gray and William had sent word, by some men belonging to the town, that they should be at home the night before, and they had not come. Might not some terrible accident have happened?
“Mrs. Gray had been sitting silently, with her arms folded upon her breast, struggling within herself to bear the approaching trial as became a Christian; for she knew better than Mary did how full of disappointment life is, and she knew also that the times were peculiarly uncertain and hazardous. She had appeared calm, notwithstanding, for she did not wish to check the fond anticipations of Mary; but when she saw that even she could not hope any longer—when she felt the sweet child weeping upon her breast, for an instant her calmness forsook her, and she wept with Mary.
“‘Do you believe, mother, they will not come?’ sobbed the child; ‘do you believe they will not come to-night?’ And shaking away the curls from her face, and a flood of tears with them, she looked upon her mother as if she would read her thoughts before she spoke.
“‘They will come, my child,’ said Mrs. Gray, speaking with much difficulty; ‘they will come when it is God’s pleasure;’ and putting the child from her arms, she went to her room and shut herself in, for her distress was so great that she could not bear to have Mary see it.
“The child, being left to herself, wept without restraint; but still she did not actually believe that her father and brother would not come very soon, and she dried her tears and thought she would run out a little way on the Seekonk road, and perhaps she might meet them. When she had got a little way from the house she saw a person approaching, and she hastened along, hoping to hear something of her father and brother; and when she got near she saw it was Rachel. Mary was very glad, for she had not seen Rachel for a long time, and she knew the Indian woman was a good friend to her, so she ran toward her and put her little arms around her; but her heart was so full she could not speak. Rachel did not know her at first; but when she saw that it was Mary, she held her in her arms, repeating, all the while, some words in the Indian tongue, which Mary knew were a kind of thanksgiving to the Great Spirit.