Beneath the mantle-piece there was no blaze, the weather being hot, so
they could not sit down "and weep the fire out," but they could hover
over old ashes and weep them wet. The real griefs in old Mrs. Barker's
life had been but few. It was a mercy-shaft that had shot Old Barker
down; rheumatic cripple, he had beaten her with his crutch, and at his
death she could not from her rebellious eye wring out a tear. No
offspring had she over whose death to mourn, and now she was put to for
a companion piece to sorrow. But her mind flew back to a time when there
died a man whom she could have loved, and her tears came full with the
memory of a blissful morning when at church he had tied her horse and
walked with her to the door. She had forgotten his name, if indeed she
had ever been possessed of it, but she spoke of him as "he" as fast as
her tears were falling.
"Ah, Lord, Sister Starbuck, I don't want to question the ways of
Providence, but it do appear that we have staid here too long. I ought
to have been taken when he left.
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