Arthur did not know then much about the true, deep, persistent tenderness of a father’s love; but we know that when God spoke a word that expresses His heart to His people, He called Himself His children’s Father.
“Let me see!” continued Arthur. “Five years, and in every year three hundred and sixty-five days. If I multiply three hundred and sixty-five by five, I shall know how many days I have to wait, and then I could mark off one every day; but, oh, dear! that makes a great, great many.”
So he sprang up from the grass, and walked briskly on the shady road, where the sunlight was falling softly; for Arthur meant never to cry, unless he could not possibly help it, and certainly not out of doors. He wandered over a good distance—for it was pleasant exploring in the new country—until he suddenly remembered his aunt at home, and that she would be thinking he had lost his way. “And I must not begin by frightening her,” said Arthur to himself.
Up till this time Arthur’s first day had passed more brightly than he had expected. It would be hard for him to be very unhappy on that spring day, with everything rejoicing around him, and the free country breathing in soft breezes. But it was different when he came in. The house seemed very dark and gloomy after the cheerful sunlight, and it seemed to him as if there was no sound of any sort indoors, except now and then a faint noise from the servants’ regions far away; for even the canary-birds were silent, and the fat dog was sleeping its life away upon the hearth-rug. Indeed, Arthur thought he could almost imagine, that the hairy creature and the soft hearth-rug were one and the same. There seemed to be nothing at all to do within doors, and he could not be out always. Besides, the bright morning was fast changing, and grey, gloomy clouds were gathering over the country. The myrtle trees were beginning to shake with a rainy wind, and he could see that the fine weather was gone for that day.
Altogether, Arthur felt very dismal as he stood at the drawing-room window, near to where his aunt was sitting at her writing-table.
“Have you had a nice walk?” she asked presently.
“Yes, aunt,” said Arthur, tapping very forcibly on the window.
“And what did you see?”
“Oh, nothing particular!” said Arthur.
Mrs. Estcourt saw that she must try some other subject to talk about.