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Bible open before him, at a little distance. Tom walked up, and stood by the sofa. He hesitated; and, while he was hesitating, St. Clare suddenly raised himself up. The honest face, so full of grief, and with such an imploring expression of affection and sympathy, struck his master. He laid his hand on Toms, and bowed down his forehead on it. O, Tom, my boy, the whole world is as empty as an egg-shell. I know it, Masr,I know it, said Tom; but, oh, if Masr could only look up,up where our dear Miss Eva is,up to the dear Lord Jesus! Ah, Tom! I do look up; but the trouble is, I dont see anything, when I do, I wish I could. Tom sighed heavily. It seems to be given to children, and poor, honest fellows, like you, to see what we cant, said St. Clare. How comes it? Thou has hid from the wise and prudent, and revealed unto babes, murmured Tom; even so, Father, for so it seemed good in thy sight. Tom, I dont believe,I cant believe,Ive got the habit of doubting, said St. Clare. I want to believe this Bible,and I cant. Dear Masr, pray to the good Lord,Lord, I believe; help thou my unbelief. Who knows anything about anything? said St. Clare, his eyes wandering dreamily, and speaking to himself. Was all that beautiful love and faith only one of the ever-shifting phases of human feeling, having nothing real to rest on, passing away with the little breath? And is there no more Eva,no heaven,no Christ,nothing? O, dear Masr, there is! I know it; Im sure of it, said Tom, falling on his knees. Do, do, dear Masr, believe it! How do you know theres any Christ, Tom! You never saw the Lord. Felt Him in my soul, Masr,feel Him now! O, Masr, when I was sold away from my old woman and the children, I was jest amost broke up. I felt as if there warnt nothin left; and then the good Lord, he stood by me, and he says, Fear not, Tom; and he brings light and joy in a poor fellers soul,makes all peace; and I s so happy, and loves everybody, and feels willin jest to be the Lords, and have the Lords will done, and be put jest where the Lord wants to put me. I know it couldnt come from me, cause I s a poor, complainincretur; it comes from the Lord; and I know Hes willin to do for Masr. Tom spoke with fast-running tears and choking voice. St. Clare leaned his head on his shoulder, and wrung the hard, faithful, black hand. Tom, you love me, he said. I s willin to lay down my life, this blessed day, to see Masr a Christian. Poor, foolish boy! said St. Clare, half-raising himself. Im not worth the love of one good, honest heart, like yours. O, Masr, deres more than me loves you,the blessed Lord Jesus loves you. How do you know that Tom? said St. Clare. |
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