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Updated: May 25, 2025
The sick babe was asleep too: all day it had moaned in its comfortless little cradle, for the mother had work to do hard work, and abundant for a family so large and poor. Heavily sat poor Mrs. Graffam upon the door-stone, waiting, she could not tell for what.
"And a cup for yourself," said Graffam, as he lighted the dry sticks in the large stone chimney, and then peered into the corners of the room in search of his children.
Graffam; "my children are all out upon the plain, but you can help yourselves to seats." Then turning to Mary she said again, "He is very sick, and I cannot tell what is the matter with him, unless it is want of ." Here she paused, and after a time added, "He is losing all his flesh, poor thing!" "Yes," said Mary, "he looks as my dear little sister did just before she died!"
"Better, thank you," replied Graffam; and growing warm-hearted in her sunlight, he told her how the little thing had smiled, and crowed at him; or began to tell, and then stopped short, fearing that he should forfeit her respect. "It is a dear child," said Emma; "and perhaps, Mr. Graffam, it may please God to restore him to health, and he may grow up to bless the world." Graffam started.
Night after night had poor Graffam reeled from side to side of that grass-tufted road, while the plain seemed to him an interminable lake of fire, amid whose scalding waves there rolled and tossed poor wretches like himself; and morning after morning he had returned by the same road, feeling as though a frost-breath had passed over the lake of fire, leaving it rough and leaden like a lava-deluged plain.
Emma still sat by the open window, upon that fine morning, thinking and feeling, as she long had done, of the heart's great depth of deceitfulness, which no man could know, and no human power could reach, when she saw Mr. Graffam coming along the road. Poor Graffam, though in his sober senses, had been longer crossing the plain that morning than usual.
"Let us run after Graffam, and have some fun," the boys would say on returning home; and then it was wonderful to see the change which had been wrought in this mournful-looking, taciturn man of the morning.
Graffam, cheerfully, as she took the things from the basket, "and a paper of tea; Miss Emma could not have intended these for poor little Sammy: so, if you please, Mr. Graffam, just light a fire under the kettle, and I will make you a cup of tea."
Graffam was at work in the garden; but his eye, now clear and intelligent, often rested on the chamber windows where the curtains were folded so close and solemnly. Susan Sliver had watched with Emma many a night, and now she had retired for a few moments while Emma slept. Susan no longer sighed for Olivet and Kedron, for in a Christian's earnest daily work she had found places equally sacred.
He looked upon that poor little creature, and wondered that he could ever forget one so suffering and dependent. "The baby feels better," said Graffam to his wife; and he thought to himself, "I too should feel better, could I break my chains and be a man." Through most of that night Graffam thought the same thing, and wondered if it could be done.
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