Volume I Part 20 (2/2)

'When life sinks apace, And death is in view, This word of his grace Shall comfort us through.

No fearing nor doubting, ?

With Christ on our side, We hope to die shouting, The Lord will provide !'

The little reader's voice changed, almost broke, but she struggled through, and then was quietly crying behind her hand.

”Read it again,” said the old gentleman, after a pause.

There is no ”cannot” in the vocabulary of affection. Fleda waited a minute or two to rally her forces, and then went through it again, more steadily than the first time.

”Yes,” said Mr. Ringgan, calmly, folding his hands, ”that will do! That trust wont fail, for it is founded upon a rock. 'He is a rock; and he knoweth them that put their trust in him!' I have been a fool to doubt ever that he would make all things work well ? 'The Lord will provide!”

”Grandpa,” said Fleda, but in an unsteady voice, and shading her face with her hand still, ”I can remember reading this hymn to my mother once when I was so little that 'suggestions'

was a hard word to me.”

”Ay, ay ? I dare say,” said the old gentleman; ”your mother knew that Rock, and rested her hope upon it, ? where mine stands now. If ever there was a creature that might have trusted to her own doings, I believe she was one, for I never saw her do anything wrong, as I know. But she knew Christ was all. Will you follow him, as she did, dear?”

Fleda tried in vain to give an answer.

”Do you know what her last prayer for you was, Fleda?”

”No, grandpa.”

”It was that you might be kept 'unspotted from the world.' I heard her make that prayer myself.” And stretching out his hand, the old gentleman laid it tenderly upon Fleda's bowed head, saying with strong earnestness and affection, even his voice somewhat shaken, ”G.o.d grant that prayer! ? whatever else he do with her, keep my child from the evil! ? and bring her to join her father and mother in heaven! ? and me!”

He said no more; but Fleda's sobs said a great deal. And when the sobs were hushed, she still sat shedding quiet tears, sorrowed and disturbed by her grandfather's manner. She had never known it so grave, so solemn; but there was that shadow of something else in it besides, and she would have feared if she had known what to fear. He told her at last that she had better go to bed, and to say to Cynthy that he wanted to see her. She was going, and had near reached the door, when he said,

”Elfleda!”

She hastened back to the bedside.

”Kiss me.”

He let her do so twice, without moving, and then holding her to his breast he pressed one long earnest pa.s.sionate kiss upon her lips, and released her.

Fleda told Cynthy that her grandfather wished her to come to him, and then mounted the stairs, to her little bedroom. She went to the window, and opening it, looked out at the soft moonlit sky; the weather was mild again, and a little hazy, and the landscape was beautiful. But little Fleda was tasting realities, and she could not go off upon dream-journeys to seek the light food of fancy through the air. She did not think to-night about the people the moon was s.h.i.+ning on; she only thought of one little sad anxious heart, ? and of another down stairs, more sad and anxious still, she feared; what could it be about? Now that Mr. Jolly had settled all that troublesome business with McGowan?

As she stood there at the window, gazing out aimlessly into the still night, ? it was very quiet, ? she heard Cynthy at the back of the house, calling out, but as if she were afraid of making too much noise, ”Watkins! Watkins!”

The sound had business, if not anxiety, in it. Fleda instinctively held her breath to listen. Presently she heard Watkins reply; but they were round the corner, she could not easily make out what they said. It was only by straining her ears that she caught the words.

”Watkins, Mr. Ringgan wants you to go right up on the hill to Mis' Plumfield's, and tell her he wants her to come right down ? he thinks” ? the voice of the speaker fell, and Fleda could only make out the last words ? ”Dr. James.” More was said, but so thick and low that she could understand nothing.

She had heard enough. She shut the window, trembling, and fastened again the parts of her dress she had loosened; and softly and hastily went down the stairs into the kitchen.

”Cynthy! ? what is the matter with grandpa!”

”Why aint you in bed, Flidda?” said Cynthy, with some sharpness. ”That's what you had ought to be. I am sure your grandpa wants you to be abed.”

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