But these were only fanciful regrets,
flitting like shadows across a mirror. Peace and thankfulness
were once more the atmosphere of her mind; nor was her
unconsciousness disturbed by any suspicion of Mr. Farquhar's
increasing approbation and admiration, which he was diligently
nursing up into love for her. She knew that he had sent--she did
not know how often he had brought--fruit for the convalescent
Leonard. She heard, on her return from her daily employment, that
Mr. Farquhar had bought a little gentle pony on which Leonard,
weak as he was, might ride. To confess the truth, her maternal
pride was such that she thought that all kindness shown to such a
boy as Leonard was but natural; she believed him to be
"A child whom all that locked on, loved."
As in truth he was; and the proof of this was daily shown in many
kind inquiries, and many thoughtful little offerings, besides Mr.
Farquhar's. The poor (warm and kind of heart to all sorrow common
to humanity) were touched with pity for the young widow, whose
only child lay ill, and nigh unto death. They brought what they
could--a fresh egg, when eggs were scarce--a few ripe pears that
grew on the sunniest side of the humblest cottage, where the
fruit was regarded as a source of income--a call of inquiry, and
a prayer that God would spare the child, from an old crippled
woman, who could scarcely drag herself so far as the
Chapel-house, yet felt her worn and weary heart stirred with a
sharp pang of sympathy, and a very present remembrance of the
time when she too was young, and saw the life-breath quiver out
of her child, now an angel in that heaven which felt more like
home to the desolate old creature than this empty earth.
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