In his wretchedness he longed for affection, he longed for some one who
would really care for him, "but _no one_ cares for me," groaned the lad,
"no one, and I wish I might die to night." Ah, Joe, may God change you
_very_ much before he grants that wish! After he had sobbed a while, he
began to think more calmly, but his thoughts were thoughts of revenge
and hatred. "_John_ has been the cause of it all." Then he thought
again, "they may well make all this fuss over me, when their son caused
all my misery; let them do what they will they will never make it up to
me, but they only tolerate me I can see, I know I am in the way; they
don't ask me here because they care for me, not they, it's only out of
pity;" and here, rolling his head from side to side, sobbed and cried
afresh. "What would I give for some one to love me, for some one to wait
on me because they loved me! but here I am to lie all my life, a
helpless, hopeless, cripple; oh dear! oh dear! my heart _will_ break.
Those horrid bells! will they never have done?"
* * * * *
At the very moment when poor Joe was thinking that no one on earth cared
for him, that not a heart was the sadder for his sorrow, a kind heart
not far off was feeling very much for him.
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