The Redemption of David CorsonGoss, Charles Frederic
General
The Redemption of David Corson
Goss, Charles Frederic
Society of Friends -- Fiction
Ignorant of the distance or the exact direction, and stopping
occasionally to inquire the way, she plodded on, the exhaustion of
hunger and weariness becoming more and more unendurable. All that she
did now was done by the sheer force of will; but yield she would not.
She would die cheerfully when she had attained her object, but not
before. The winds became more wild and boisterous; they loosened and
tossed her black hair about her wan face; they beat against her person
and drove her back. Every step seemed the last one possible; but
suddenly, just as she descended the slope of a steep hill, she saw the
twinkling lights of the village and the feeble rays shot new courage
into her heart. Under this accession of power she pushed forward and
made her way toward the old Quaker homestead.
The night had now deepened around her; but every foot of the landscape
had been indelibly impressed upon her memory, and even in the gathering
gloom she chose the road unerringly. There were only a few steps more,
and reeling toward the door yard fence she felt her way to the gate,
opened it, staggered forward up the path in the rays of light that
struggled out into the darkness, and with one final effort fell fainting
upon the threshold.
The scene within the house presented a striking contrast to that
without. In a great open fireplace the flames of the beech logs were
wavering up the chimney. Seated in the radiance of their light, on a low
stool, was a young boy with his elbows upon his knees and his cheeks in
the palms of his hands. His mother sat by his side stroking his hair and
gazing at him in fond, brooding love. The father was bending over a
Bible lying open on the table; it was the hour of prayer. He was reading
a lesson from the twenty-fifth chapter of St. Matthew, and had just
articulated in slow and reverent tones the words of Jesus, "I was a
stranger and ye took me in," when they heard a sound at the door.
Father, mother and son sprang to their feet and, hurrying towards the
door, flung it open and beheld a woman's limp form lying on the
threshold.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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