"Anyhow," said Israel, "my life among you is ended.I set no store by place and power.What does the English poet say, 'In the great hand of God I stand.' Shakespeare--oh, a mighty creature--one who knew where the soul of a man lay.But I forget, you've not lived in England.
Do you know I am to go there again, and to take my little daughter?
You remember her--Naomi--a charming girl.She can see now, and hear, and speak also! Yes for God has lifted His hand away from her, and I am going to be very happy.Well, I must leave you, brothers.
The little one will be waiting.I must not keep her too long, must I?
Peace, peace!"
Seeing his profound faith, no one dared to tell him the truth that was on every tongue.A wave of compassion swept over all.
The deputation stood and watched him until he had sunk under the hill.
And now, being come thus near to home, Israel's impatience robbed him of some of his happy confidence and filled him with fears.
He began to think of all the evil chances that might have befallen Naomi.
His absence had been so long, and so many things might have happened since he went away.In this mood he tried to run.It was a poor uncertain shamble.At nearly every step the body lurched for poise and balance.
At last he came to a point of the path from which, as he knew, the little rush-covered house ought to be seen."It's yonder,"he cried, and pointed it out to himself with uplifted finger.