He was on his way to spend the week-end with one of his school-fellows, who lived among the mountains in Cumberland.
He had left the station some hours ago, and his friend's house was still a long way off, and the evening shadows were falling over the land.
He knew his way pretty well, and was not anxious about his destination, so that he had plenty of time to think.
He was an earnest boy, and really wished to do right, but somehow he had got into rather a muddle lately, and did not know how to extricate himself.
"I don't doubt my love to Him," he pursued, "but it's so cold and lifeless—such a poor return, that sometimes—"
Then he glanced up at the sunset clouds, and his troubled thoughts took the form of a prayer—a very simple, child-like one—"O God, show me some one who will help me where I am going!"
With a lightened heart, he made his way across the bridge, and now could take in the glory and refreshment of the scene.
When he reached his school-fellow's house he was, however, dismayed to find that Jack had set out an hour ago to meet him, and they must have missed.
He was asked into the library to wait, and there, seated by a fire, was an invalid gentleman who glanced up from his book to welcome him.
After the first civilities had passed, the invalid asked Norman if he would help him by turning over some leaves for him, as with his crippled hands he found it difficult.