Though he did
cease to go into a passion with, and to strike Stephen, the poor lad
was an object always at hand, on which to vent his ill-humour, Many,
many times was Stephen on the point of losing heart and temper; but
he was always able to control himself by thinking of his mother.
And, as he said, there was always comfort in those Saturday nights
and blessed Sundays. A long walk in the country on those blessed
Sundays, and the Testament readings to his mother, would always
strengthen his often wavering faith in her prophecies of good in the
end, would cheer his spirits, and nerve him with a fresh resolution
for the coming week. And what was it that the widow hoped would
result from this painful bondage? She did not know; she only had
faith in her doctrine--that patience and industry would some time be
rewarded. _How_ the reward was to come in her son's case, she could
not see. It seemed likely, indeed, from all appearances, that the
doctrine in this case would prove false. But still she had faith.
It was now nearly four years since the conversation between mother
and son before detailed. They were together again on the Saturday
evening. Stephen had grown into a tall, manly youth, with a gentle,
kind, and thoughtful expression of countenance.
Pages:
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347