reviving not with any reason to back it, but only because it is its
nature to revive when the spring has not been taken out of it by age and
familiarity with failure.
By-and-by Tom took Becky s candle and blew it out. This economy meant so
much! Words were not needed. Becky understood, and her hope died again.
She knew that Tom had a whole candle and three or four pieces in his
pockets yet he must economize.
By-and-by, fatigue began to assert its claims; the children tried to pay
attention, for it was dreadful to think of sitting down when time was
grown to be so precious, moving, in some direction, in any direction,
was at least progress and might bear fruit; but to sit down was to
invite death and shorten its pursuit.
At last Becky s frail limbs refused to carry her farther. She sat down.
Tom rested with her, and they talked of home, and the friends there,
and the comfortable beds and, above all, the light! Becky cried, and Tom
tried to think of some way of comforting her, but all his encouragements
were grown thread-bare with use, and sounded like sarcasms. Fatigue bore
so heavily upon Becky that she drowsed off to sleep. Tom was grateful.
He sat looking into her drawn face and saw it grow smooth and natural
under the influence of pleasant dreams; and by-and-by a smile dawned and
rested there. The peaceful face reflected somewhat of peace and healing
into his own spirit, and his thoughts wandered away to bygone times and
dreamy memories. While he was deep in his musings, Becky woke up with a
breezy little laugh but it was stricken dead upon her lips, and a groan
followed it.
Oh, how _could_ I sleep! I wish I never, never had waked! No! No, I
don t, Tom! Don t look so! I won t say it again.
I m glad you ve slept, Becky; you ll feel rested, now, and we ll find
the way out.
We can try, Tom; but I ve seen such a beautiful country in my dream. I
reckon we are going there.
Maybe not, maybe not. Cheer up, Becky, and let s go on trying.
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