"Yes, yes; all very true; very true;" said Mrs. Elder, despondingly.

"The days that look so bright in the future, never come."

"They have never come to me." And the sick woman shook her head
mournfully. "Long, long ago, I ceased to expect them." And yet, in
almost the next breath, Mrs. Elder said:

"If Lotty were only here, I think I would be happy again."

"You must try and extract some grains of comfort even from the
present," replied the kind-hearted visitor. "Consider me your
friend, and look to me for whatever is needed. I have brought you
over some tea and sugar, a loaf of bread, and some nice pieces of
ham. Here are half a dozen fresh eggs besides, and a glass of jelly.
In the morning I will send one of my girls to put everything in
order for you, and clear your rooms up nicely. Let Betsy lay out all
your soiled clothing, and I will have it washed and ironed. So,
cheer up; if the day opened with clouds in the sky, there is light
in the west at its close."

Mrs. Markland spoke in a buoyant tone; and something of the spirit
she wished to transfer, animated the heart of Mrs. Elder.

As the mother and her gentle child went back, through the deepening
twilight, to their home of luxury and taste, both were, for much of
the way, silent; the former musing on what she had seen and heard,
and, like the wise bee, seeking to gather whatever honey could be
found: the latter, happy-hearted, from causes the reader has seen.