Mr. Lyon did not speak for a few moments, but at last he said—
"It is true. I am overcome. It was a name I saw—a name that called up a past sorrow. Fear not; I will do what is needful with these things. You may trust them to me."
With trembling fingers he replaced the chain, and tied both the large pocket-book and the note-book in his handkerchief. He was evidently making a great effort over himself. But when he had gathered the knot of the handkerchief in his hand he said—
"Give me your arm to the door, my friend. I feel ill. Doubtless I am over-wearied."
The door was already open, and Lyddy was watching for her master's return. Felix therefore said good-night and passed on, sure that this was what Mr. Lyon would prefer. The minister's supper of warm porridge was ready by the kitchen-fire, where he always took it on a Sunday evening, and afterward smoked his weekly pipe up the broad chimney—the one great relaxation he allowed himself. Smoking, he considered, was a recreation of the travailled spirit, which, if indulged in, might endear this world to us by the ignoble bonds of mere sensuous ease. Daily smoking might be lawful, but it was not expedient. And in this Esther concurred with a doctrinal eagerness that was unusual in her. It was her habit to go to her own room, professedly to bed, very early on Sundays—immediately on her return from chapel—that she might avoid her father's pipe. But this evening she had remained at home, under a true plea of not feeling well; and when she heard him enter, she ran out of the parlor to meet him.
"Father, you are ill," she said, as he tottered to the wicker-bottomed arm-chair, while Lyddy stood by, shaking her head.
"No, my dear," he answered feebly, as she took off his hat and looked in his face enquiringly; "I am weary."
"Let me lay these things down for you," said Esther, touching the bundle in the handkerchief.
"No; they are matters which I have to examine," he said, laying them on the table, and putting his arm across them. "Go you to bed, Lyddy."
"Not me, sir. If ever a man looked as if he was struck with death, it's you, this very night as here is."