The poor fellow winced. He shrank, no doubt, from opening his wound
afresh for another stranger to probe. But there was something so
sympathetic in the old man's face, and the hearty shake of the hand that
he gave without even speaking, that I concluded he would do more good
than harm. After sitting a little while in silence, I overheard him
telling how he had heard of his trouble through the conductor. I had not
asked him anything about his wife's death, that seemed a grief too sacred
to explain to a perfect stranger; but he had told Mrs. Flaxman all, and I
sat listening with a strong desire to cry while she repeated the story to
us.
"His wife died very suddenly," she said, "and they were all strangers
where they lived; but every one, he said, was so kind. He is taking his
baby home to his mother. They live a little way out of Cavendish. He said
he knew us; and was never so surprised at anything in his life as when
a beautiful young lady, like you, traveling, too, with Mr. Winthrop, came
and took his baby. Everybody was looking so crossly at the baby, he had
just begun to feel as if there was no sympathy for him in all this world
full of strangers; but, when you came, there was a great load taken off
his heart. I mean after this to be more on the watch to help others."
"Why, Mrs. Flaxman, I thought that was one of your strongest
characteristics."
"Don't ever say such a thing to me again, when if it had not been for a
tender-hearted child, with the very poorest possible opinion of herself,
we might have, amongst us, finished breaking that poor fellow's heart.
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