The Cabin on the Prairie

BE?–A HEART

the spell of a deep, controlling conviction that something unusual is to transpire,–a persuasion that comes to them, not through reason or evidence, or the probabilities of things, but, as some express it, "as if a voice had spoken to them" when no human being was near, or by a secret whispering to the soul by some unseen and seemingly superhuman authority,–when she had such a presentiment it never deceived her. 36 For some time she had foreboded trouble. The foreboding grew upon her till its dark shadow cast a gloom upon all her feelings; it

was to be heard save their breathing, and the whisper of the wind outside. The silence was painful to her, and she arose and peered out of the window again. Everything looked weird and ghastly. What a solitude! For miles over the smooth prair

was fixed once more upon the forest; for it seemed to her that a dark object moved

however; the instinct of the mother was roused. Her children might be murdered. She glanced again at the advancing savages, and then, softly opening the door,–which, fortunately, was on the other side of the cabin,–she returned with the axe, the only weapon of defence at hand, and, with flashing eyes, and a deadly resolution depicted on her face, which seemed turned to marble, silently awaited the onsla

er! m

ered, at last; "t

spered Tom

satisfied that the danger was really past; then she related

n by the white man. Besides, there are not many near us. You see that these have not harmed us; they only stole an ox. Why, mother, don't you know that th

anxiety, except her fears, and she had not ventured to express them 39 to any one before; for she was aware, such was t

father was

him, and he can go anywhere over the prairies and through the woods without guide or compass, and not ge

you look feverish. The doctor said you ought to have been out before this." Tom looked down, but did not reply. "Tom," continued she, tenderly, "someth

ed and loving attack upon the citadel that held his secret secure, as he had

ed 40 as if she were in prayer; upon which

re you a C

mes hope that I am one; but it is a great thing to be a t

w you're good enough to be a Christian; but you never spoke

d pained by the

r does not feel as I do about it; and I have scarcely felt like instructing the children contrary

e you prayin

d she, hes

you prayin

, my

for a while,

re a Christian; that is, if–if–the Bible is true. But there are so

, Tom?" He col

bad. But I thought some time I would like to ask some one about it

all my

h those who do good, and an

ainly

ou, and you needed them so much, when there's Jo Priest, and ever so many more, swearing, ugly fellows, that go a gunning almost al

great part of them seem harder than they really are, because we are so ignorant. But you know how I am situated. I don't hear a

cher was here. I'd like to ask him; but perhaps he wo

aced her hand upon her heart–"that all God does is jus

his mother's faith,

e with the Indians; but nobody expects that. And now you say that you feel that all God does is right. Now, if you are wrong

God does right; for I feel that he does; and, Tom, we shall see about the Indians;" and she sighed heavily, and rose, and gaz

your troubles yet. Hadn't you b

he, "her feelings are right about me; perhaps they are about God;"

't want the children and us all to be so poor and despised;" and the tears came again, and the mother's mingled

on your mind, and took away your appetite, and made you so unhapp

miserable–did you, mothe

ted with such a life. I have felt that you might do a great

ow can I have t

u thought to make them different?" The boy averted his face a

get learning, and earn my li

d you think

with an unsteady voice, "t

off without lettin

ected to write back, an

me than you were by the powder. You meant it well, Tom; but you reasoned about going away, just as you reasoned about God's dealings with you, like a child. Tom, you are necessary now to my comfort, and perhaps my life. I am not 45 over strong, and any great trouble might be too much for me. I am afraid nights now, but I feel safer when you are here. And you help me a great deal about house, and in the care of

asked Tom

her understood the case; but his heart sank as his air-castle fell, and he wept anew. "But do not misunderstand me, Tom, as you did God's dealings with you. What I say brings to you a great disappointment. It seems almost cruel in me thus to cut off your hopes of being something better in the world. 46 Tom, it does not follow, because you were going too soon, and God permitted an a