“Art thou sick, then?”
“So I think; very. And I have seen one who knows, and when I told him the truth, he said to me, ‘Set thy house in order, Tulloch, for it is likely this sickness will be thy last.’ So come in and out as often as thou can, Margaret, and thou tell the minister the road I am traveling, for I shall look to him and thee to 280 keep me company on it as far as we may tread it together.”
It did not enter Margaret’s mind to say little commonplaces of negation. Her large, clear eyes, solemn and tender, admitted the fact at once, and she answered the lonely man’s petition by laying her hand upon his, and saying, “At this time thou lean on me like a daughter. I will serve thee until the last hour.”
“When thou hast heard all concerning Jan from the minister, come and tell me too; for it will be a great pleasure to me to know how Jan Vedder turned his trouble into good fortune.”
Probably Dr. Balloch had received a letter from Jan also, for he looked singularly and inquisitively at Margaret as she entered his room. She went directly to his side, and laid Jan’s letter before him. He read it slowly through, then raised his face and said, “Well, Margaret?”
“It is not so well. Thou knew all this time that Jan was alive.”
“Yes, I knew it. It is likely to be so, for I—I mean, I was sent to save his life.”
“Wilt thou tell me how?”
“Yes, I will tell thee now. Little thou thought in those days of Jan Vedder, but I will show thee how God loved him! One of his holy messengers, one of his consecrated servants, one of this world’s nobles, were set to work together for Jan’s salvation.” Then he told her all that had happened, and he read her Jan’s letters, and as he spoke of his great heart, and his kind heart, the old man’s eyes kindled, and he began to walk about the room in his enthusiasm.