The twilight was so thick that the old negress could not see the speaker's face, but a certain tremble and softness of his voice did not escape her notice.
"Have ye foun' de Lord, Mas'r Dick?" she asked, quickly.
"I know not what I have found," Trafford answered, while his tears fell; "but if I might find his face, and know that it smiled upon me, I should care for little else."
"Now praise de Lord!" said Hagar, fervently; "dat's more'n ye ever felt afore. Thar's help fur ye, Mas'r Dick, an' 'tain't fur off!"
"Too far for me to find it!" said Trafford; "he does not smile upon those who have rejected him."
"Oh, chile!" said Hagar, in a shocked tone; "don't ye know de Lord's all mercy an' lubbin' kin'ness? Don't ye know he won't 'spise an' hate ye jes' as ef he was like a man? Oh, honey! Hagar's feared ter hear ye talk like dat. 'Pears as ef ye made de Lord jes' like poor, eble, good-fur-nuffin man."
Trafford made no reply. A sudden darkness seemed shutting down upon him. It was as if a great golden gleam had fallen out of heaven upon him, warming and softening his heart, and when he turned with tears and joy to look along its pathway heavenward, it vanished and left him groping in confusion and dismay. He got up from off his seat, saying, mournfully,—
"The brightness is all gone from me! I'm in doubt and fear. Oh, how can I ever find his face?—and how can he ever smile upon me who have rejected him?"
Hagar sighed heavily as she said, "Ye don't 'preciate de Lord, chile. Ye talks jes' as ef he was a man, an' could feel 'vengeful towards ye! Don't s'pose any man could forgive ye, honey, but de bressed Lord is all lub,—Hagar knows dat,—an' Jesus died jes' as much fur ye as he did fur anybody. Ye's got to look to dat bressed Lord Jesus, an' ef ye looks hard 'nough, ye'll find him. Oh, Hagar t'anks de Lord frum de bottom ob her heart fur yer feelin' so to-night."
"But I have not found him! He is hidden from me!" said Trafford.