Noll looked grave and puzzled still. "I don't understand, Uncle Richard," he said.
"No; how can you?" his uncle said, after a pause. "To you, death is only God's hand; to me, it—oh, Noll, I cannot tell you what it is! I don't wish to shock you, boy, but I'm a long way from where your father was when he penned me that calm note,—lying in the very arms of death at the moment." Noll was silent. "Yes," continued Trafford, "for me there is no brightness beyond the depths of the grave. All is dark,—dark! and so many of my friends have vanished in it,—so many have been lost to me there! Ah, my hope was all wrecked long ago!"
Noll looked up quickly, with, "Papa lost to you, to me, Uncle Richard? Oh, that is not true at all! Papa lost to us?"
"Not to you, not to you, Noll, thank God!" Trafford replied; "but to me,—yes! His faith he left to you,—I can see, I feel it; but I have none."
Noll looked up to the sad-eyed, gloomy man, and fathomed the mystery of his sorrow at once. Who would not be forever sad with nothing beyond the grave but blank and darkness in which loved hearts were alway vanishing?
"Oh, Uncle Richard," said he, "I'm sorry for you!"
"I don't deserve it," Trafford said, with unusual tenderness. "How can you love such a man as myself? Oh, my boy, I've been harsh with you, and cold and stern; go where you'll find some one that can care for you better than I!"
But Noll's face suddenly grew bright. "I wouldn't do that," he said, earnestly,—"never, Uncle Richard! Papa said I was to live with you and love you, and I will, unless you wish me to go. And if you do not, don't tell me to leave you again!"
"I will not, Noll," Trafford said.
So it was all settled, at last, and Noll's heart—in spite of Uncle Richard's gloominess—was light and glad. He would stay and see if the man's sorrow and wretchedness could not be driven away, he thought; perhaps—who could tell?—he would lose his sternness, and become kind and regardful, and follow in the path which papa had trod. It all seemed very doubtful now, it was true, but such a thing might be, after a time.