"Nor I,' said his son. "I had a long way to go," said Mr. Humphreys; "that poor woman-that Mrs. Dolan-she lives in the woods behind the Cat's Back, a mile beyond Carra-carra, or more it seemed a long mile to-night; and a more miserable place I never saw yet. A little rickety shanty, the storm was hardly kept out of it, and no appearance of comfort or nicety anywhere or in any thing. There were several men gathered round the fire, and in a corner, on a miserable kind of bed, I saw the sick child. His eye met mine the moment I went in, and I thought I had seen him before, but couldn't at first make out where. Do you remember, Alice, a little ragged boy, with a remarkably bright pleas ant face, who has planted himself regularly every Sunday morning for some time past in the south aisle of the church, and stood there all service time?" Alice said no. "I have noticed him often, and noticed him as paying a most fixed and steady attention. I have repeatedly tried to catch him on his way out of church, to speak to him, but always failed. I asked him to-night, when I first went in, if he knew me. 'I do, sir,' he said. I asked him where he had seen me. He said, 'In the church beyant.' 'So,' said I, 'you are the little boy I have seen there so regularly; what did you come there for?' "To hear yer honor spake the good words.' "What good words?' said I; about what?' "He said, 'About Him that was slain and washed us from our sins in his own blood.' "And do you think he has washed away yours?' I said. "He smiled at me very expressively. I suppose it was somewhat difficult for him to speak; and to tell the truth so it was for me, for I was taken by surprise; but the people in the hut had gathered round, and I wished to hear him say more, for their sake as well as my own. I asked him why he thought his sins were washed away. He gave me for answer part of the verse, 'Suffer little children to come unto me,' but did not finish it. 'Do you think you are very sick, John?' I asked. “I am, sir,' he said, 'I'll not be long here.' "And where do you think you are going then?' said I. “He lifted one little thin bony arm from under his coverlid, and through all the dirt and pallor of his face the smile of heaven I am sure was on it, as he looked and pointed upward and answered, 'Jesus!' "I asked him presently, as soon as I could, what he had wished to see me for. I don't know whether he heard me or not; he lay with his eyes half closed, breathing with difficulty. I doubted whether he would speak again; and indeed, for myself, I had heard and seen enough to satisfy me entirely; for the sake of the group around the bed I could have desired something further. They kept perfect stillness; awed, I think, by a profession of faith such as they had never heard before. They and I stood watching him, and at the end of a few minutes, not more than ten or fifteen, he opened his eyes and with sudden life and strength rose up half way in bed, exclaiming, 'Thanks be to God for his unspeakable gift!'-and then fell back—just dead." The old gentleman's voice was husky as he finished, for Alice and Ellen were both weeping, and John Humphreys had covered his face with his hands. "I have felt," said the old gentleman presently," as if I could have shouted out his words-his dying words-all the way as I came home. My little girl," said he, drawing Ellen to him, "do you know the meaning of those sweet things of which little John Dolan's mind was so full ?" Ellen did not speak. "Do you know what it is to be a sinner?—and what it is to be a forgiven child of God?" "I believe I do, sir," Ellen said. He kissed her forehead and blessed her; and then said, "Let us pray." It was late; the servants had gone to bed, and they were alone. Oh what a thanksgiving Mr. Humphreys poured forth for that "unspeakable gift;"-that they, every one there, had been made to know and rejoice in it; for the poor little boy, rich in faith, who had just gone home in the same rejoicing; for their own loved one who was there already; and for the hope of joining them soon in safety and joy, to sing with them the " new song" for ever and ever. There were no dry eyes in the room. And when they arose, Mr. Humphreys, after giving his daughter the usual kiss for good night, gave one to Ellen too, which he had never done before, and then going to his son and laying both hands on his shoulders, kissed his cheek also; then silently took his candle and went. They lingered a little while after he was gone, standing round the fire as if loth to part, but in grave silence, each busy with his own thoughts. Alice's ended by fixing on her brother, for laying her hand and her head carelessly on his shoulder, she said, "And so you have been well all this time, John ?" He turned his face towards her without speaking, but Ellen as well as his sister saw the look of love with which he answered her question, rather of endearment than inquiry; and from that minute Ellen's mind was made up as to the doubt which had troubled her. She went to bed quite satisfied that her new brother was a decided acquisition. 29 CHAPTER XXVII. The night was winter in his roughest mood, The vault is blue Without a cloud, and white without a speck COWPER. BEFORE EFORE Ellen's eyes were open the next morningalmost before she awoke the thought of the Christmas visit, the sleigh-ride, John Humphreys, and the weather, all rushed into her mind at once, and started her half up in the bed to look out of the window. Well frosted the panes of glass were, but at the corners and edges unmistakeable bright gleams of light came in. 66 "O Alice, it's beautiful!" exclaimed Ellen; "look how the sun is shining! and 'tisn't very cold. Are we going to-day ?" "I don't know yet, Ellie, but we shall know very soon. We'll settle that at breakfast." At breakfast it was settled. They were to go, and set off directly. Mr. Humphreys could not go with them, because he had promised to bury little John Dolan; the priest had declared he would have nothing to do with it; and the poor mother had applied to Mr. Humphreys, as being the clergyman her child had most trusted and loved to hear. It seemed that little John had persuaded her out of half her prejudices by his affectionate talk and blameless behaviour during some time past. Mr. Humphreys, therefore, must stay at home that day. He promised, however, to follow them the next, and would by no means permit them to wait for him. He said the day was fine, and they must improve it; and he should be pleased to have them with their friends as long as possible. So the little travelling bag was stuffed, with more things than it seemed possible to get into it. Among the rest Ellen brought her little red Bible, which Alice decided should go in John's pocket;-the little carpet-bag could not take it. Ellen was afraid it never would be locked. By dint of much pushing and crowding, however, locked it was; and they made themselves ready. Over Ellen's merino dress and coat went an old fur tippet; a little shawl was tied round her neck; her feet were cased in a pair of warm moccasins, which belonging to Margery were of course a world too big for her, but "any thing but cold," as their owner said. Her nice blue hood would protect her head well, and Alice gave her a green veil to save her eyes from the glare of the snow. When Ellen shuffled out of Alice's room in this trim, John gave her one of his grave looks, and saying she looked like Mother Bunch, begged to know how she expected to get to the sleigh; he said she would want a footman indeed to wait upon her, to pick up her slippers, if she went in that fashion. However he ended by picking her up, carried her and set her down safely in the sleigh. Alice followed, and in another minute they were off. Ellen's delight was unbounded. Presently they turned round a corner and left the house behind out of sight; and they were speeding away along a road that was quite new to her. Ellen's heart felt like dancing for joy. Nobody would have thought it, she sat so still and quiet between Alice and her brother; but her eyes were very bright as they looked joyously about her, and every now and then she could not help smiling to herself. Nothing was wanting to the pleasure of that ride. The day was of winter's fairest; the blue sky as clear as if clouds had never dimmed or crossed it. None crossed it now. It was cold, but not bitterly cold, nor windy; the sleigh skimmed along over the smooth frozen surface of the snow as if it was no trouble at all to Prince Charlie to draw it; and the sleigh-bells jingled and rang, the very music for Ellen's thoughts to dance to. And then with somebody she liked very much on each side of her, and pleasures untold in the prospect, no wonder she felt as if her heart could not hold any more. The green veil could not be kept on, every thing looked so beautiful in that morning's sun. The long wide slopes of untrodden and unspotted snow, too |