Bible Stories and Religious ClassicsWells, Philip P. (Philip Patterson)
Religion
Bible Stories and Religious Classics
Wells, Philip P. (Philip Patterson)
Bible stories, English -- Juvenile literature; Christian literature for children
"In a doleful hour art thou returned to me, poor boy," she said, "for
thy mother's path has gone darkening onward, till now the end is death.
Son, son, I have borne thee in my arms when my limbs were tottering, and
I have fed thee with the food that I was fainting for; yet I have ill
performed a mother's part by thee in life, and now I leave thee no
inheritance but woe and shame. Thou wilt go seeking through the world,
and find all hearts closed against thee, and their sweet affections
turned to bitterness for my sake. My child, my child, how many a pang
awaits thy gentle spirit and I the cause of all!"
She hid her face on Ilbrahim's head, and her long raven hair, discolored
with the ashes of her mourning, fell down about him like a veil. A low
and interrupted moan was the voice of her heart's anguish, and it did
not fail to move the sympathies of many who mistook their involuntary
virtue for a sin. Sobs were audible in the female section of the house,
and every man who was a father drew his hand across his eyes. Tobias
Pearson was agitated and uneasy, but a certain feeling like the
consciousness of guilt oppressed him, so that he could not go forth and
offer himself as the protector of the child. Dorothy, however, had
watched her husband's eye. Her mind was free from the influence that had
begun to work on his, and she drew near the Quaker woman, and addressed
her in the hearing of all the congregation.
"Stranger, trust this boy to me, and I will be his mother," she said,
taking Ilbrahim's hand. "Providence has signally marked out my husband
to protect him, and he has fed at our table and lodged under our roof,
now many days, till our hearts have grown very strongly unto him. Leave
the tender child with us, and be at ease concerning his welfare."
The Quaker rose from the ground, but drew the boy closer to her, while
she gazed earnestly in Dorothy's face. Her mild, but saddened features,
and neat matronly attire harmonized together, and were like a verse of
fireside poetry. Her very aspect proved that she was blameless, so far
as mortal could be so, in respect to God and man; while the enthusiast,
in her robe of sackcloth and girdle of knotted cord, had as evidently
violated the duties of the present life and the future, by fixing her
attention wholly on the latter. The two females, as they held each a
hand of Ilbrahim, formed a practical allegory; it was rational piety and
unbridled fanaticism contending for the empire of a young heart.
"Thou art not of our people," said the Quaker, mournfully.
"No, we are not of your people," replied Dorothy, with mildness, "but we
are Christians, looking upward to the same Heaven with you. Doubt not
that your boy shall meet you there, if there be a blessing on our tender
and prayerful guidance of him. Thither, I trust, my own children have
gone before me, for I also have been a mother; I am no longer so," she
added, in a faltering tone, "and your son will have all my care."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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