To meet a little girl in the woods, to kill a black snake, and thus relieve her from a terrible fright, to say the least, was not a great event, as events are reckoned in the world; yet it was destined to exert a powerful influence upon his future career. It was not the magnitude of the deed performed, or the chivalrous spirit which called it forth, that made this a memorable event to Harry; it was the angel visit—the kindling influence of a pure heart that passed from her to him. But I suppose the impatient reader will not thank me for moralizing over two whole pages, and I leave the further application of the moral to the discretion of my young friends.
Harry felt strangely—more strangely than he had ever felt before. As he walked back to the cabin everything seemed to have assumed a new appearance. Somehow the trees did not look as they used to look. He saw through a different medium. His being seemed to have undergone a change. He could not account for it; perhaps he did not try.
He entered the cabin; and, without dropping the train of thought which Julia's presence suggested, he busied himself in making the place more comfortable. He shook up the straw, and made his bed, stuffed dried grass into the chinks and crannies in the roof, fastened the door up with some birch withes, and replaced some of the stones of the chimney which had fallen down. This work occupied him for nearly two hours, though, so busy were his thoughts, they seemed not more than half an hour.
He had scarcely finished these necessary repairs before he heard the light step of her who fed him, as Elijah was fed by the ravens, for it seemed like a providential supply. She saw him at the door of the cabin; and she no longer dallied with a walk, but ran with all her might.
"O, Harry, I am so glad!" she cried, out of breath, as she handed him a little basket, whose contents were carefully covered with a piece of brown paper.
"Glad of what, Julia?" asked Harry, smiling from sympathy with her.
"I have heard all about it; and I am so glad you are a good boy!" exclaimed she, panting like a pretty fawn which had gamboled its breath away.
"About what?"
"Father has seen and talked with—who was he?"
Harry laughed. How could he tell whom her father had seen and talked with? He was not a magician.