as not so speedily
performed. Every dark corner was explored, and every alley and by-lane
had to be traversed, and the morning was far advanced when they reached
home after their unsuccessful search.
The husband and babe were still sleeping, for Becca had ministered to
all their wants. She had buoyed herself with the hope that they would be
successful: but when she saw them return alone, her spirits sank as low
as those of the mother, and although she was silent, yet the frequent
application of the apron to her eyes showed that she felt as a mother
for one so sorrowfully placed.
Promising to "luk in i' th' morn'," they left the disconsolate Bessy
to her grief.
Who shall attempt to describe the anguish of that bereaved parent?
Statuelike she sat, nursing a sorrow too deep for tears. Hours passed,
and the first faint streak of dawn found her still sitting, with her
eyes intently fixed on vacancy. Her husband's voice was the first thing
that roused her from the state of despondency into which she had sunk.
He spoke with difficulty, and his voice was feeble as a child's.
"Bessy," he gasped, "tha munnot leave me ony moor. It's drawin varry
near. Awr little Tom an' Susy have been here wol tha's been off; aw
heeard 'em calling for me, but aw could'nt goa until aw'd had a word wi'
thee. Aw'm feeard tha'll tak it hard, lass, but if tha finds tha cannot
bide it, ax th' parson to tell thee what he tell'd to me, an' it'll
comfort thee." Bessy was unable to reply. Sorrows had been heaped upon
her so heavily that her feelings were benumbed; she scarcely
comprehended what was said, but in the bitterness of her soul she fell
upon her knees and sobbed--"Lord, help me!"
Her husband feebly took her hand and drew her towards him. "He will help
thee, lassie, niver fear. One kiss, Bessy; gooid bye! Tom! Susy!--It's
varry dark.--Aw think aw want to sleep."--
"And ere that hour departed.
All death reveals, he knew."
CHAPTER III.
A change had taken place in the atmosphere since Bessy and Abe had
returned. Here and there green patches could be seen on the hill side,
and the distant town presented a view of smoke-blackened roofs that
shone, dripping with wet as the sickly' sun glanced over them. Little or
no snow was to be found in the streets, and all the hideous sights stood
out once more rejoicing in their naked deformities.
The giant engine--the factory's heart--was ceasing to beat once more, in
order to allow the w
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