Three days after that morning, the children were told of the invitation, and of the arrangement that their uncle and aunt had made regarding it.
Eric was to go first, starting almost immediately, and remaining till the end of the school season. Then next year, when Nora was a little older, she should go, God willing, for some months also.
Few words were spoken by either of the children as this announcement was made; though, boylike, Eric was delighted to go, and Nora, for the while disappointed that her turn would be so long deferred. Still, we must own that her loving heart shrank from the thought of leaving those she loved so dearly. There were tears in her eyes on the morning that Eric set off from the home-nest, leaving her the only one of the orphans remaining there; but she only threw herself into Mrs. Macleod's arms, and said quietly—"Oh, I am so glad that I have you and uncle to love me still!"
Many anxious thoughts followed Eric as he left his home. There was no evidence that any thoughts of heavenly things were in his heart; and yet, though his friends failed to realize it, the seed sown was not in vain. The day-by-day power of a good example, the blessed influence of a Christian home, are never wholly without effect; though it was no hand in that happy home that was commissioned from on high to lead Eric to seek what is better than gold.
[CHAPTER V.]
AN ENGLISH HOME.
"I tremble when I think how much
I love him; but I turn away
From thinking of it, just to love him more,—
Indeed, I fear too much."
"ONE, two, three, and over!" called a bright-faced little fellow of some eight years, as he jumped again and again over a low iron fence which separated the shrubbery at one part from the shady lawn of the old English castle of which he was the youthful heir.
A pretty curly Skye-terrier puppy shared his sport, and jumped every time his young master did so. Those two were plainly having "a good time" (as the Americans say), judging by the sparkle in their eyes. They were alone, apparently; and the stately old trees, and even the gray, venerable castle itself, seemed to keep ward over the young creatures in their play.
Not that they were the only young things about just then: for young leaves were quivering on the branches of the old trees, and young birds were chirping in the pretty little nests in the shrubs and hedges; young flowers were peeping up through the tender grass, and the very sweetest of violets and primroses were dotting the banks of the sparkling river that intersected the lawn; and, more than all, young, woolly, curly lambs were frolicking about, enjoying themselves as much as the merry boy, the owner of them all, and his frisky companion.