“Oh! I only know that Casson's gone, and Harris going, but he would not tell me any more.”
“Well, then, I will.”
“Hamilton,” said Louis, gently laying his hand on Hamilton's, “may I ask one thing?”
“What is it?”
“Will you read a little of this with me first?” he said, timidly, touching the Bible. “I have neglected it so lately. It would be so pleasant before we begin any thing else. You do not know how difficult it is in our room to be a minute quiet.”
Hamilton had opened the Bible before Louis had finished, and bade him select a chapter, which he asked him to read aloud.
Louis read the 7th Psalm, and the 14th of Hosea; and when he had finished, he and his friend remained very silent.
Hamilton felt for Louis, though he did not know how soothingly the sweet words fell on the soul of the erring boy; how unspeakably precious had been the promise, that the backslider should be healed, and the dew of the Spirit refresh him, and make him grow in grace. Louis felt a wish to prolong those gracious words, “Ephraim shall say, What have I any more to do with idols? I have heard and observed him; I am like a green fir-tree, from me is thy fruit found!”
“Dear Hamilton,” he said, at length, “I have a very great favor to beg of you—would you let me come in a little every morning to read with you? It would do me so much good.”
“By all means,” said Hamilton, perhaps a little shily; but it was promise enough to call forth Louis' heartfelt thanks.