How much the children had to talk about that night; how many stories to
tell Arthur, and questions to ask him in return! Arthur had decided
beforehand not to make any complaint, or to say he was unhappy, or
homesick; and indeed in the pleasure of being at home again, he almost
forgot he had ever been unhappy. He was to stay till Monday morning, and
to him those four days seemed a long period of enjoyment, quite too long
to be saddened yet by the thoughts of separation. The night settled down
on the inmates of the cottage, and sweet sleep sealed up all eyes; even
those of the weary mother. The year had brought many trials, and some
heavy ones, but there was in spite of them all, much to be thankful for,
especially that all her beloved children had been preserved to her, and
were so healthy, so promising, and so likely to prove blessings to her.
Ah, how long afterwards did she recall that merry evening, and those
beaming faces, with a heavy heart!
CHAPTER III.
THE SEPARATION.
Thanksgiving is over! Its dinner, its frolics, its boisterous mirth, are
all in the past! It is Sabbath evening. A sadness seems to hang about
the party. Lucy had returned to her aunt, with whom she lived. James was
to go home that evening. Henry and Arthur in the morning. They with John
and their mother, sat thoughtfully around the fire; the younger children
were in bed; little was said by any one, but Mrs. Hamilton, wishing to
have a more private interview with Arthur, took him to her room. There
she questioned him about his new home more particularly. To her
amazement, the moment she spoke of his returning, he burst into a flood
of tears. Poor Arthur! he meant to be brave, and to hide his troubles,
but now that his heart had been warmed by the light of affection and
home-joy, the idea of going back was terrible to him. He could not
deceive, or keep back any thing. With passionate earnestness, he
besought his mother to let him stay at home.
