“Is not that the way thee feels, George?”

“It is so indeed,” said George,—­“as well as I could have written it myself.”

“Then, hear,” said Simeon:  “When I thought to know this, it was too painful for me until I went unto the sanctuary of God.  Then understood I their end.  Surely thou didst set them in slippery places, thou castedst them down to destruction.  As a dream when one awaketh, so, oh Lord, when thou awakest, thou shalt despise their image.  Nevertheless I am continually with thee; thou hast holden me by my right hand.  Thou shalt guide me by thy counsel, and afterwards receive me to glory.  It is good for me to draw near unto God.  I have put my trust in the Lord God."*

     * Ps. 73, “The End of the Wicked contrasted with that of the
     Righteous.”

The words of holy trust, breathed by the friendly old man, stole like sacred music over the harassed and chafed spirit of George; and after he ceased, he sat with a gentle and subdued expression on his fine features.

“If this world were all, George,” said Simeon, “thee might, indeed, ask where is the Lord?  But it is often those who have least of all in this life whom he chooseth for the kingdom.  Put thy trust in him and, no matter what befalls thee here, he will make all right hereafter.”

If these words had been spoken by some easy, self-indulgent exhorter, from whose mouth they might have come merely as pious and rhetorical flourish, proper to be used to people in distress, perhaps they might not have had much effect; but coming from one who daily and calmly risked fine and imprisonment for the cause of God and man, they had a weight that could not but be felt, and both the poor, desolate fugitives found calmness and strength breathing into them from it.

And now Rachel took Eliza’s hand kindly, and led the way to the supper-table.  As they were sitting down, a light tap sounded at the door, and Ruth entered.

“I just ran in,” she said, “with these little stockings for the boy,—­three pair, nice, warm woollen ones.  It will be so cold, thee knows, in Canada.  Does thee keep up good courage, Eliza?” she added, tripping round to Eliza’s side of the table, and shaking her warmly by the hand, and slipping a seed-cake into Harry’s hand.  “I brought a little parcel of these for him,” she said, tugging at her pocket to get out the package.  “Children, thee knows, will always be eating.”

“O, thank you; you are too kind,” said Eliza.

“Come, Ruth, sit down to supper,” said Rachel.

“I couldn’t, any way.  I left John with the baby, and some biscuits in the oven; and I can’t stay a moment, else John will burn up all the biscuits, and give the baby all the sugar in the bowl.  That’s the way he does,” said the little Quakeress, laughing.  “So, good-by, Eliza; good-by, George; the Lord grant thee a safe journey;” and, with a few tripping steps, Ruth was out of the apartment.