So, it had often
come to pass during the winter that she had staid at home upon
inclement days, and read the service to her nephew and herself, and
talked with the child about the boys of the Old and New Testaments.
And it was noticeable, as indicating the thoughtful loving character
of little Harry, that of all the band he envied most the lad who had
given his barley loaves to the Saviour. He would listen to Elizabeth's
description of the green, desert place, and the weary multitudes, and
the calm evening, and then begin to wonder, in his childish words,
"How the Saviour looked" at the boy--what he said to him--to fancy
the smile of Jesus and the touch of the Divine hand, and following
out his thought would say, softly, "How that little boy's heart must
have ached when they crucified him! What would he do, aunt? Does the
Bible say any more about him?"
But sweet as such Sabbaths were to both woman and child, Elizabeth
knew that they deepened the unfavorable opinion about her, and she
was sure that they always grieved her old friend. So, one Monday
morning after an absence from church, she took the path through the
park, determined to call upon him, and explain, as far as she was able,
her reasons. It was a lovely day, and the child walked by her side, or
ran hither and thither after a blue-bell, or a primrose; stopping
sometimes behind, to watch a pair of building robins, or running on in
advance after a rabbit.
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