Every miner would
vanish; they could not look upon her shame, and they would send Mavor
forth in the charge of Billy Breen, a queer little chap, who had
belonged to the Mavors in some way in the old country, and between them
they would get him home. How she stood it puzzles me to this day; but
she never made any sign, and her courage never failed. It was always a
bright, brave, proud face she held up to the world--except in church;
there it was different. I used to preach my sermons, I believe, mostly
for her--but never so that she could suspect--as bravely and as cheerily
as I could. And as she listened, and especially as she sang--how she
used to sing in those days!--there was no touch of pride in her face,
though the courage never died out, but appeal, appeal! I could have
cursed aloud the cause of her misery, or wept for the pity of it. Before
her baby was born he seemed to pull himself together, for he was
quite mad about her, and from the day the baby came--talk about
miracles!--from that day he never drank a drop.
Pages:
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87