I remember her well. I see her, an' I think I
hear her voice on the top of Lisbane, ringin' sweetly across the valley
of the Mountain Wather, as I often did. An' is it to take me away now
from all this? Oh! no, childre', the white-haired grandfather couldn't
go. He couldn't lave the ould places--the ould places. If he did, he'd
die--he'd die. Oh, don't, for God's sake, Tom, as you love me!"
There was a spirit of helpless entreaty in these last words that touched
his son, and indeed all who heard him, to the quick.
"Grandfather dear, be quiet," he replied; "God will direct all things
for the best. Don't cry," he added, for the old man was crying like an
infant; "don't cry, but be quiet, and everything will be well in time.
It's a great trial, I know; but any change is better than to remain
here till we come, like so many others, to beggary. God will support us,
father."
The old man wiped his eyes, and seemed as if he had taken comfort
from the words of his son; whereas, the fact was, that his mind had
altogether passed from the subject; but not without that unconscious
feeling of pain which frequently remains after the recollection of that
which has occasioned it has passed away.
It was evident, from the manner of the old man, that the knowledge
of their intended emigration had alarmed into action all the dormant
instincts of his nature; but this was clearly more than they were
competent to sustain for any length of time.
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