CHAPTER VI.
THE GRASSHOPPER A BURDEN.
It was some time before the full meaning of Susan's letter penetratedto her father's brain; but when it did, he was not at first altogetherpained by it. True, it was both a grief and disappointment to thinkthat his daughter, instead of returning to him, was already on her wayacross the sea to a very distant land. But as this came slowly to hismind, there came also the thought that there would now be no one todivide with him the treasure committed to his charge. The little childwould belong to him alone. They might go on still, living as they haddone these last three days, and being all in all to one another. If hecould have chosen, his will would certainly have been for Susan toreturn to them; but, since he could not have his choice, he felt thatthere were some things which would be all the happier for him becauseof her absence.
He put Dolly to bed, and then went out to shut up the shop for the night.As he carried in his feeble arms a single shutter at a time, he heardhimself hailed by a boy's voice, which was lowered to a low andmysterious whisper, and which belonged to Tony, who took the shutter outof his hands.
"S'pose the mother turned up all right?" he said, pointing with his thumbthrough the half open door.
"But whatever'll the Master say to that?" inquired Tony.
"What master?" asked old Oliver.
"Him--Lord Jesus Christ. What'll he say to her leaving you and thelittle 'un again?" said Tony, with an eager face.
"Oh! he says a woman ought to leave her father, and keep to her husband,"he answered, somewhat sadly. "It's all right, that is."
"Ay will he; him and me," replied old Oliver; "there's no fear of that.You never read the Testament, of course, my boy?"
"Can't read, I told you," he answered. "But what's that?"
"A book all about him, the Lord Jesus," said Oliver, "what he's done, andwhat he's willing to do for people. If you'll come of an evening, I'llread it aloud to you and my little love. She'll listen as quiet and goodas any angel."
"I'll come to-morrow," answered Tony, readily; and he lingered about thedoorway until he heard the old man inside fasten the bolts and locks, andsaw the light go out in the pane of glass over the door. Then hescampered noiselessly with his naked feet along the alley in thedirection of Covent Garden, where he purposed to spend the night, if leftundisturbed.
Old Oliver laid aside his pipe, and rested his worn face upon his hands,while the heavy tears came slowly and painfully to his eyes, andtrickled down his withered cheeks. His joy had fled, and his unmingledgladness had faded quite away. He was a very poor, very old man; and thelittle child was very, very young. What would become of them both, alonein London?
He did not know whether it was a voice speaking within himself in his ownheart, or words whispered very softly into his ear; but he heard a low,quiet, still, small voice, which said, "Even to your old age I am he,and even to hoar hairs I will carry you: I have made, and I will bear;even I will carry, and will deliver you." And old Oliver answered, with asob, "Yes, Lord, yes!"