But Mary rubbed
her eyes and sank back on her pillow, awake, and knowing it was a
dream; and still, in all her troubles and perplexities, her heart
called on her mother for aid, and she thought, "If mother had but
lived, she would have helped me." Forgetting that the woman's
sorrows are far more difficult to mitigate than a child's, even by
the mighty power of a mother's love; and unconscious of the fact,
that she was far superior in sense and spirit to the mother she
mourned. Aunt Esther was still mysteriously absent, and people had
grown weary of wondering, and begun to forget. Barton still
attended his club, and was an active member of a Trades' Union;
indeed, more frequently than ever, since the time of Mary's return
in the evening was so uncertain; and as she occasionally, in very
busy times, remained all night. His chiefest friend was still
George Wilson, although he had no great sympathy on the questions
that agitated Barton's mind. But their hearts were bound by old
ties to one another, and the remembrance of former things gave an
unspoken charm to their meetings.
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