Say and Seal Volume Ii Part 33

Reuben replenished the fire and went out, and the two sat alone.

"Faith," her mother said softly, "don't you think he'd be content with me to-night? I can't bear to have Mr. Linden sit up."

"I want to stay myself, mother, if he would let me."

"I don't believe he'll do that, Faith--and I guess he's right But you must make him go home to tea, child, and he might rest a little then; and I'll stay till he comes back, at least."

There was not much more to be said then, for Johnny woke up and wanted to be taken on Faith's lap, and talked to, and petted; answering all her efforts with a sort of grateful little smile and way; but moving himself about in her arms as if he felt restless and uneasy. It went to her heart. Presently, in the low tones which were music of themselves, she carried his thoughts off to the time when Jesus was a little child; and began to give him, in the simplicity of very graphic detail, part of the story of Christ's life upon earth. It was a name that Johnny loved to hear; and Faith went from point to point of his words, and wonders, and healing power and comforting love. Not dwelling too long, but telling Johnny very much as if she had seen it, each gentle story of the sick and the weary and the troubled, who came in their various ways to ask pity of Jesus, and found it; and reporting to Johnny as if she had heard them the words of promise and love that a little child could understand. Mrs. Derrick listened; she had never heard just such a talk in her life. The peculiarity of it was in the vivid faith and love which took hold of the things as if Faith had had them by eyesight and hearing, and in the simplicity of representation with which she gave them, as a child to a child. And all the while she let Johnny constantly be changing his position, as restlessness prompted; from sitting to kneeling and lying in her arms; sometimes brushing his hair, which once in a while he had a fancy for, and sometimes combing it off from his forehead with her own fingers dipped in the vinegar and water which he liked to smell. Nothing could be more winning--nothing more skilful, in its way, than Faith's talk to the sick child that half hour or more. And Johnny told its effect, in the way he would bid her "talk," if she paused for a minute. So by degrees the restless fit pa.s.sed off for the time, and he lay still in her arms, with drooping heavy eyelids now.

Everything was subsiding;--the sun sank down softly behind the wavy horizon line, the clouds floated silently away to some other harbour, and the blasts of wind came fainter and fainter, like the music of a retreating army. Swiftly the daylight ebbed away, and still Faith rocked softly back and forth, and her mother watched her. Once in a while Reuben came silently in to bring wood or fresh water,--otherwise they had no interruption. Then Mr. Linden came, and sitting down by Faith as he had done before, asked about the child and about the doctor.

"He came very soon after you went away," said Faith. "He said that he was no better, and that to be no better was to be worse." It was plain that she thought more than she said. Faith had little experience, but there is an intuitive skill in some eyes to know what they have never known before.

Mr. Linden bent down over the child, laying cheek to cheek softly and silently, until Johnny rousing up a little held up his lips to be kissed,--and he did not raise his head then.

"Have you been asleep, Johnny?" he said.

"I don't know," the child said dreamily.

"Has Miss Faith taken care of you ever since I went?"

"Yes," Johnny said, with a little faint smile--"and we've had talk."

"I wish I had been here to hear it," said Mr. Linden. "What was it about?--all sorts of sweet things?"

"Yes," Johnny said again, his face brightening--"out of the Bible."

"Well they are the sweetest things I know of," said Mr. Linden. "Now if you will come on my lap, I am sure Miss Faith will get you something to eat--she can do it a great deal better than I can."

Faith had soon done that, and brought the cup to Johnny, of something that he liked, and fed him as she had done at noon. It seemed to refresh him, for he fell into a quieter sleep than he had had for some time, and was oftly laid on the bed.

"Now dear Faith," Mr. Linden said coming back to her, "it is time for you to go home and rest."

"Do you mean to send me?" she said wistfully.

"Or take you--" he said, with a soft touch of his fingers on her hair.

"I don't know but I could be spared long enough for that."

It was arranged so, Mrs. Derrick undertaking to supply all deficiencies so far as she could, until Mr. Linden should get back again. The fast drive home through the still cold air was refreshing to both parties; it was a still drive too. Then leaving Mr. Linden to get a little rest on the sofa, Faith prepared tea. But Mr. Linden would not stay long after that, for rest or anything.

"I am coming very early to-morrow, Endecott," Faith said then.

"You may, dear child--if you will promise to sleep to-night. But you must not rouse yourself _too_ early. You know to-morrow is Sat.u.r.day--so I shall not be called off by other duties."

He went, and Mrs. Derrick came; but Faith, though weary enough certainly, spent the evening in study.

CHAPTER XII.

There is no knowing what Mr. Linden would have considered "too early,"

and Faith had prudently omitted to enquire. She studied nothing but her Bible that morning and spent the rest of the time in getting ready what she was to take with her; for Mr. Linden would not come home to breakfast. And it was but fair day, the sun had not risen, when she was on her way. She wondered, as she went, what they would have done that winter without Jerry; and looked at the colouring clouds in the east with a strange quick appreciation of the rising of that other day told of in the Bible. Little Johnny brought the two near; the type and the ant.i.type. It was a pretty ride; cold, bright, still, shadowless; till the sun got above the horizon, and then the long yellow faint beams threw themselves across the snow that was all a white level before.

They reached Faith's heart, as the commissioned earnest of that other Sun that will fill the world with his glory and that will make heaven a place where "there shall be no night."

The room where little Johnny was,--lay like the chamber called Peace, in the Pilgrim's Progress--towards the sunrising; but to reach it Faith had first to pa.s.s through another on the darker side of the house. The door between the two stood open, perhaps for fresher air, and as Faith came lightly in she could see that room lit up as it were with the early sunbeams. It was an old-fashioned room;--the windows with chintz shades, the floor painted, with a single strip of rag carpet; the old low-post bed-stead, with its check blue and white spread, the high-backed splinter chairs, told of life that had made but little progress in modern improvement. And Jonathan Fax himself, lean, long-headed, and lantern-jawed, looked grimmer than ever under his new veil of solemn feeling. He sat by the window.

The wood fire in the low fireplace flickered and fell with its changing light, on all; but within the warm glow a little group told of life that _had_ made progress--progress which though but yet begun, was to go on its fair course through all the ages of eternity!

Little Johnny sat in his teacher's lap, one arm round his neck, and his weary little head resting as securely on Mr. Linden's breast as if it had been a woman's. The other hand moved softly over the cuff of that black sleeve, or twined its thin fingers in and out the strong hand that was clasped round him. Sometimes raising his eyes, Johnny put some question, or asked for "talk;" his own face then much the brighter of the two,--Faith could see the face that bent over him not only touched with its wonted gravity, which the heavenly seal set there, but moved and shaken in its composure by the wistful eyes and words of the little boy. The answering words were too low-spoken for her to hear. She could see how tenderly the child's caresses were returned,--not the mother whose care Johnny had never known, could have given the little head gentler rest. Nay, not so good,--unless she could have given the little heart such comfort. For Johnny was in the arms of one who knew well that road to the unseen land--who had studied it; and now as the child went on before him, could still give him words of cheer, and shew him the stepping-stones through the dark river. It seemed to Faith as if the river were already in sight,--as if somewhat of

"that strange, unearthly grace Which crowns but once the children of our race--"

already rested upon Johnny's fair brow. Yet he looked brighter than yesterday, bright with a very sweet clear quietness now.

Faith stood still one minute--and another; then pulling off her hood, she came in with a footfall so noiseless that it never brought Mr.

Fax's head from the window, and knelt down by the side of that group.

She had a smile for Johnny too, but it was a smile that had quite left the things of the world behind it and met the child on his own ground; and her kiss was sweet accordingly. A look and a clasp of the hand to Mr. Linden; then she rose up and went round to the window to take the hand of Mr. Fax, who had found his feet.

"I'm very much beholden to ye!" said he in somewhat astonished wise.

"You're takin' a sight o' trouble among ye."

"It's no trouble, sir."

Mr. Fax looked bewildered. He advanced to Mr. Linden. "Now this girl's here," said he, "don't you think you hadn't better come into another room and try to drop off? I guess he can get along without you for a spell--can't he?"

"I am not quite ready to leave him," Mr. Linden said,--"and I am not at all sleepy, Mr. Fax. Perhaps I will come by and by."

"We'll have breakfast, I conclude, some time this forenoon. I'll go and see if it's ever comin'. Maybe you'll take that first."

He went away; and Faith, rid of her wrappers, came up again behind Johnny, pa.s.sing her fingers through his hair and bending down her face to his; she did not speak. Only her eye went to Mr. Linden for intelligence, as the eye will, even when it has seen for itself!

"Dr. Harrison is coming this morning," was all he said. She did not need to ask any more.

"May Johnny have anything now?"

"O yes--and he will like it," Mr. Linden said in a different tone, and half addressing the child. "He asked me some time ago when you were coming--but not for that."

Faith brought something freshly prepared for Johnny and served him tenderly. Meanwhile her own coffee had been on the fire; and after making two or three simple arrangements of things she came back to them.

"Will you sit with me now, Johnny, and let Mr. Linden have some breakfast?"

"In here?" the child said. But being rea.s.sured on that point, he came to Faith's arms very willingly, or rather let Mr. Linden place him there, when she had drawn her chair up nearer the table so that he could look on. And with her arms wrapped tenderly round him, but a face of as clear quiet as the morning sky when there are no clouds before the sunrise, she sat there, and she and Johnny matched Mr. Linden's breakfast. There was no need to talk, for Johnny had a simple pleasure in what was going on, and in everything his friend did. And if the little face before him hindered Mr. Linden's enjoyment of breakfast, that was suffered to appear as little as possible. Breakfast was even rather prolonged and played with, because it seemed to amuse him; and the word and the smile were always ready, either to call forth or to answer one from the child. Nor from him alone, for by degrees even Faith was drawn out of her silence.

Mr. Linden had not yet changed his place, when on the walk that led up to the house Faith saw the approach of Dr. Harrison. The doctor as he came in gave a comprehensive glance at the table, Mr. Linden who had risen, and Faith with Johnny in her lap; shook hands with Mr. Linden, and taking the chair he had quitted sat down in front of Faith and Johnny. A question and answer first pa.s.sed about her own well-being.

"You've not been here all night?" said he.