I will not be afeard. Yet oh! I am
so sick with terror. But if he is to die, think ye not that I will
see him again; ay! see him at his trial? When all are hating him,
he shall have his poor mother near him, to give him all the comfort,
eyes, and looks, and tears, and a heart that is dead to all but him,
can give; his poor mother, who knows how free he is from sin--in the
sight of man at least. They'll let me go to him, maybe, the very
minute it's over; and I know many Scripture texts (though you would
not think it), that may keep up his heart. I missed seeing him ere
he went to yon prison, but nought shall keep me away again one
minute when I can see his face; for maybe the minutes are numbered,
and the count but small. I know I can be a comfort to him, poor
lad. You would not think it, now, but he'd always speak as kind and
soft to me as if he were courting me, like. He loved me above a
bit; and am I to leave him now to dree all the cruel slander they'll
put upon him? I can pray for him at each hard word they say against
him, if I can do nought else; and he'll know what his mother is
doing for him, poor lad, by the look on my face.
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