Then come to the river,
And, thanking the Giver,
Drink! Drink, weary sinner, the Water of Life!
“Good morning, Mr. Blyth,” said Philip. “I am glad to hear you sing so merrily. It promises well for the errand on which I come.”
“Good morning, Master Philip. I’m heartily glad to see you strong and well again. That would be quite enough to set me singing. There’s many a heart in Nestleton that thanks God for that.”
“I’m very much obliged to them,” said Philip heartily. “There are few things in the world better worth winning and holding than the affection and esteem of honest neighbours. This morning, however, I own that there is something nearer my heart than that; and as nobody can help me in it as well as you can, I say again, I am glad you are in so pleasant a mood. Will you help me?”
“Anything in the world that I can do for you, Master Philip, I shall be glad to do—at least anything but one,” and this with a meaning look that his hearer clearly understood.
“And that one, Mr. Blyth?”
“Nay, I need say no more, sir. ‘That one’ is an impossibility, and need not be mentioned.”
Philip stepped forward, and, taking Nathan by the hand, said, seriously enough,—