At
that thought he set off to crawl homewards upon his hands and knees, with
suppressed groans, as his foot trailed uselessly along the ground. Yet he
knew he could not advance very far in this manner. What if he should have
to lie all night upon the hard paving-stones! for he could not remember
ever having seen a policeman in these back streets; and there did not
seem to be anybody else likely to pass that way. It was freezing fast,
now the sun was gone down, and his hands scraped up the frosty mud as he
dragged himself along. If he stayed out all night, he must die of cold
and pain before morning.
But if that was true which old Oliver said so often, that the Lord Jesus
Christ loved him, and that he was always with those whom he loved, then
he was not alone and helpless even here, in the deserted street, with the
ice and darkness of a winter's night about him. Oh! if he could but feel
the hand of Christ touching him, or hear the lowest whisper of his voice,
or catch the dimmest sight of his face! Perhaps it was he who was helping
him to crawl towards the stir and light of a more frequented street,
which he could see afar off, though the pain he felt made him giddy and
sick.
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