"Ah! you lose a great deal of comfort, then!" softly observed the old gentleman, kissing Lizzie's cheek. "I had a little girl once, and her name was Lizzie, too," he added, his mild blue eyes beginning to glisten.
"Where is she now?" asked Lizzie.
"In heaven."
The clergyman's voice was scarcely raised above a whisper; but so deep was the silence in the room, that he was heard distinctly. Hepsy's eyes swam with tears; and the rest of the family were more or less affected by the pathetic reply.
"It is a comfort to think she is there, isn't it?" he continued, with a smile of happiness radiating his calm and hopeful countenance. "How good God is to us!" he exclaimed, fervently.
Afterwards, he engaged in cheerful conversation with the parents; but soon expressed a wish to retire, and, kissing Lizzie again and shaking hands with all the rest, with a pleasant word for each, he took his candle, and withdrew.
But he seemed to have left the warmth of his presence behind him. The family had never separated with happier faces and kinder words than on that night; and Sarah, James and Lizzie, went lovingly up-stairs together.
Chester remained with his parents, to have a little private conversation before going to bed. Mrs. Royden broke the silence.
"It is strange what has become of that boy, Samuel. It was time he was back, half an hour ago."
"I've been thinking about him," replied Chester, with an anxious look. "If he is riding that horse all over creation, I wouldn't give much for him, in the morning."