"
"Yes, I'll do it, I'll do it just like that."
"Mos' like ye'll have to go to Wilkesbarre. An ye do I'll go mysel'.
But dinna wait for me. I'll coom when I can get awa'. Ye s'ould go on
the first train that leaves."
"Yes, I unnerstan'. I'll go now."
"Wait a bit! Keep up your courage, Ralph. Ye've done a braw thing, an'
ye're through the worst o' it; but ye'll find a hard path yet, an'
ye'll need a stout hert. Ralph," he had taken both the boy's hands
into his again, and was looking tenderly into his haggard face and
bloodshot eyes; the traces of the struggle were so very plain--"Ralph,
I fear I'd cry ower ye a bit an we had the time, ye've sufferit so.
An' it's gude for ye, I'm thinkin', that ye mus' go quick. I'd make ye
weak, an' ye need to be strang. I canna fear for ye, laddie; ye ken
the right an' ye'll do it. Good-by till ye; it'll not be lang till I
s'all go to ye; good-by!"
He bent down and kissed the boy's forehead and turned him to face
toward the city; and when Ralph had disappeared below the brow of the
hill, the rough-handed, warm-hearted toiler of the breaker's head
wiped the tears from his face, and climbed back up the steep steps,
and the long walks of cleated plank, to engage in his accustomed task.
There was no shrinking on Ralph's part now. He was on fire with the
determination to do the duty that lay so plainly in his sight. He did
not stop to argue with himself, he scarcely saw a person or a thing
along his path; he never rested from his rapid journey till he reached
the door of Mrs.
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