"Thy touch has still its ancient power;
No word from Thee can fruitless fall:
Hear, in this solemn evening hour,
And in Thy mercy heal us all."
Attracted by the sound of the sweet boyish voice, Jane had come upstairs. She now entered the room, and Jack having fallen asleep, she bore Theodore off to supper and bed. But Theodore did not quickly close his eyes and drift into the land of dreams, as he usually did. He lay very quiet and still for more than an hour, his brain working busily; then, knowing he was now safe from a visit from Jane, he slipped out of bed, and swiftly dressed himself. Next he went to the window, and after noiselessly pulling up the blind, cautiously opened it.
The night air was sweet with summer scents, and blew freshly against Theodore's face, cooling his flushed, sunburnt cheeks. He leaned his elbows on the sill, and lifted his eyes to the sky, where the moon was shining brightly. Presently he turned his gaze to the garden, where the tall madonna lilies reared their stately heads; he could smell their delicious fragrance, and he fancied they looked like ghosts in the moonlight.
As his eyes wandered to the grey church tower in the distance, a sense of loneliness crept over him, such as he had never experienced before; and he thought of the grave wherein his mother lay, and wished sorrowfully that she had not died. If she had lived, she would have loved him, he knew, even as Mrs. Barton loved her little son. Why had God taken her away from him? Was it really because she had been too good to live, as Jane had often told him, unconsciously magnifying the good qualities of her dead mistress? He did not think that a sufficient reason, for other people were good, and often lived to be quite old.
"I'm sure John Bawdon is good, every one says so," Theodore mused. "Father says he's honest and faithful, and one of the best men he knows, and yet God has let him live all these years. No, that can't be it. I wish I knew."
Another hour passed, and still the boy waited by the open window. At length, however, he heard the sound of carriage wheels, and following out a plan he had made, he hastened downstairs, and into the room where he knew his stepmother and father would presently come.
The lamp was lowered, so that, on entering, Mr. and Mrs. Barton did not notice the child. They stood on the rug by the fireplace, talking and laughing about the events of the evening. She had thrown off her wraps, and looked very beautiful in her soft white gown, trimmed with filmy lace. As Theodore watched her face, flushed and animated at present, he did not wonder that Jack loved his mother so dearly, or that his father was so much happier now-a-days. The boy crossed the room towards them, and each turned on him with an exclamation of surprise.