And his heart fail'd him. "Isabel," said he, Two evenings after he had heard the news, "I have been toiling more than seventy years, And in the open sun-shine of God's love Have we all liv'd, yet if these fields of ours Should pass into a Stranger's hand, I think That I could not lie quiet in my grave. Our lot is a hard lot; the Sun itself Has scarcely been more diligent than I, And I have liv'd to be a fool at last To my own family. An evil Man
That was, and made an evil choice, if he Were false to us; and if he were not false, There are ten thousand to whom loss like this Had been no sorrow. I forgive him-but
'Twere better to be dumb than to talk thus. When I began, my purpose was to speak Of remedies and of a chearful hope.
Our Luke shall leave us, Isabel; the land
Shall not go from us, and it shall be free, He shall possess it, free as is the wind
We have, thou knowest,
Another Kinsman, he will be our friend In this distress. He is a prosperous man, Thriving in trade, and Luke to him shall go, And with his Kinsman's help and his own thrift, He quickly will repair this loss, and then
If here he stay,
Where every one is poor
At this, the old man paus'd,
And Isabel sate silent, for her mind
Was busy, looking back into past times. There's Richard Bateman, thought she to herself, He was a parish-boy-at the church-door They made a gathering for him, shillings, pence, And halfpennies, wherewith the Neighbours bought A Basket, which they fill'd with Pedlar's wares, And with this Basket on his arm, the Lad
Went up to London, found a Master there, Who out of many chose the trusty Boy
go and overlook his merchandise
Beyond the seas, where he grew wond'rous rich, And left estates and monies to the poor,
And at his birth-place built a Chapel, floor'd With Marble, which he sent from foreign lands. These thoughts, and many others of like sort, Pass'd quickly thro' the mind of Isabel, And her face brighten'd. The Old Man was glad, And thus resum'd. "Well! Isabel, this scheme These two days has been meat and drink to me. Far more than we have lost is left us yet. -We have enough—I wish indeed that I Were younger, but this hope is a good hope. -Make ready Luke's best garments, of the best Buy for him more, and let us send him forth To-morrow, or the next day, or to-night: -If he could go, the Boy should go to-night."
Here Michael ceas'd, and to the fields went forth With a light heart. The House-wife for five days Was restless morn and night, and all day long Wrought on with her best fingers to prepare Things needful for the journey of her Son. But Isabel was glad when Sunday came To stop her in her work; for, when she lay By Michael's side, she for the two last nights Heard him, how he was troubled in his sleep: And when they rose at morning she could see That all his hopes were gone. That day at noon She said to Luke, while they two by themselves Were sitting at the door, "Thou must not go, We have no other Child but thee to lose, None to remember-do not go away,
For if thou leave thy Father he will die." The Lad made answer with a jocund voice, And Isabel, when she had told her fears, Recover'd heart. That evening her best fare
Did she bring forth, and all together sate Like happy people round a Christmas fire.
Next morning Isabel resum'd her work, And all the ensuing week the house appear'd As cheerful as a grove in Spring: at length The expected letter from their Kinsman came, With kind assurances that he would do
His utmost for the welfare of the Boy,
To which requests were added that forthwith
The letter was read over;
Went forth to shew it to the neighbours round: Nor was there at that time on English Land A prouder heart than Luke's. When Isabel Had to her house return'd, the Old Man said, "He shall depart to-morrow." To this word The House-wife answered, talking much of things Which, if at such short notice he should go,
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