It was hard, unspeakably hard, to drag his wife and child through want and sorrow, and could Elizabeth, his wife, bear it again?
He found her in the tiny garden behind the horse, kneeling before a flower-bed to weed it.

As he greeted her pleasantly, she rose and beckoned to him.
"Let us sit down," he said, leading her to the bench before the hedge, that separated the garden from the forest.

There he meant to tell her, that they must again shake the dust from their feet.
She had lost the power of speech on the rack in Portugal, and could only falter a few unintelligible words, when greatly excited, but her hearing had remained, and her husband understood how to read the expression of her eyes.

A great sorrow had drawn a deep line in the high, pure brow, and this also was eloquent; for when she felt happy and at peace it was scarcely perceptible, but if an anxious or sorrowful mood existed, the furrow contracted and deepened.

To-day it seemed to have entirely disappeared.