Now he was sick with a southern fever, and his
miserable dwelling afforded him no cordial, nor his wife and
children the healthy food that nature required.
"Mother!" said the little boy, getting up from the floor, where he
had been sitting for half an hour, as still as if he were sleeping,
and coming to Ellen's side, he looked up earnestly and imploringly
in her face.
"What, my child?" the mother said, stooping down and kissing his
forehead, while she parted with her fingers the golden hair that
fell in tangled masses over it.
"Can't I have a piece of bread, mother?"
Ellen did not reply, but rose slowly and went to the closet, from
which she took part of a loaf, and cutting a slice from it, handed
it to her hungry boy. It was her last loaf, and all their money was
gone. The little fellow took it, and breaking a piece off for his
sister, gave it to her; the two children then sat down side by side,
and ate in silence the morsel that was sweet to them.
With an instinctive feeling, that from nowhere but above could she
look for aid and comfort, did Ellen lift her heart, and pray that
she might not be forsaken in her extremity.
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