THE MOTHER'S GRIEFS.





The business upon which Mrs. Hinkley sought the chamber of her
guest was a very simple one, and easily expressed. Not that she
expressed it in few words. That is scarcely possible at any time
with an ancient lady. But the long story which she told, when
compressed into intelligible form, related to her son William.
She had some maternal fears on his account. The lad was a decided
melancholic. His appetite was bad; his looks were thin and unhappy; he
lacked the usual spirit of youth; he lacked his own usual spirit.
What was the cause of the change which had come over him so suddenly,
she could not divine. Her anxiety was for the remedy. She had
consulted Brother Cross on the subject before he departed; but
that good man, after a brief examination of the patient, had freely
admitted his inability to say what was the matter with him, and what
was proper for his cure. To the object of this solicitude himself,
he had given much good counsel, concluding finally with a recommendation
to read devoutly certain chapters in Job and Isaiah. It appears
that William Hinkley submitted to all this scrutiny with exemplary
fortitude, but gave no satisfactory answers to any of the questions
asked him. He had no complaints, he denied any suffering; and
expressed himself annoyed at the inquisition into his thoughts
and feelings. This annoyance had been expressed, however, with the
subdued tones and language of one habitually gentle and modest.
Whenever he was approached on the subject, as the good old lady
assured her guest, he shook off his questioners with no little