“O'er waiting harpstrings of the mind
There sweeps a strain,
Low, sad, and sweet, whose measures bind
The power of pain.”
The girl in the white dress did not sing. She swallowed often. The voice of the child at her side soared easily.
“And o'er earth's troubled, angry sea,
I see Christ walk;
And come to me, and tenderly,
Divinely, talk.”
What a haven of promise and peace seemed this sunny, simple place of purity.
“From tired joy and grief afar,
And nearer Thee,
Father, where Thine own children are
I love to be.”
Jewel, looking up at her companion, was surprised to see her lashes wet and her lower lip caught between her teeth.
“What's the matter, cousin Eloise?” she whispered softly as they sat down.
The girl tried to smile. Words were not at her command. “Gladness,” she returned briefly; which reply caused Jewel to meditate for some time.
They had a talk with Nat and were presented to the Reeves family after church, and Eloise felt herself in an atmosphere of love.
Jewel left the group for a private word to Zeke before her cousin should come to enter the brougham. 'Zekiel sat bolt upright in the most approved style, and did not turn his face, even when the child addressed him.