Little Johnny sat in his teacher's lap, one arm round his neck, and his weary little head resting as securely on Mr. Linden's breast as if it had been a woman's. The other hand moved softly over the cuff of that black sleeve, or twined its thin fingers in and out the strong hand that was clasped round him. Sometimes raising his eyes, Johnny put some question, or asked for "talk;" his own face then much the brighter of the two,—Faith could see the face that bent over him not only touched with its wonted gravity, which the heavenly seal set there, but moved and shaken in its composure by the wistful eyes and words of the little boy. The answering words were too low-spoken for her to hear. She could see how tenderly the child's caresses were returned,—not the mother whose care Johnny had never known, could have given the little head gentler rest. Nay, not so good,—unless she could have given the little heart such comfort. For Johnny was in the arms of one who knew well that road to the unseen land—who had studied it; and now as the child went on before him, could still give him words of cheer, and shew him the stepping-stones through the dark river. It seemed to Faith as if the river were already in sight,—as if somewhat of
"that strange, unearthly grace
Which crowns but once the children of our race—"
already rested upon Johnny's fair brow. Yet he looked brighter than yesterday, bright with a very sweet clear quietness now.
Faith stood still one minute—and another; then pulling off her hood, she came in with a footfall so noiseless that it never brought Mr. Fax's head from the window, and knelt down by the side of that group. She had a smile for Johnny too, but it was a smile that had quite left the things of the world behind it and met the child on his own ground; and her kiss was sweet accordingly. A look and a clasp of the hand to Mr. Linden; then she rose up and went round to the window to take the hand of Mr. Fax, who had found his feet.
"I'm very much beholden to ye!" said he in somewhat astonished wise.
"You're takin' a sight o' trouble among ye."
"It's no trouble, sir."
Mr. Fax looked bewildered. He advanced to Mr. Linden. "Now this girl's here," said he, "don't you think you hadn't better come into another room and try to drop off? I guess he can get along without you for a spell—can't he?"
"I am not quite ready to leave him," Mr. Linden said,—"and I am not at all sleepy, Mr. Fax. Perhaps I will come by and by."
"We'll have breakfast, I conclude, some time this forenoon. I'll go and see if it's ever comin'. Maybe you'll take that first."
He went away; and Faith, rid of her wrappers, came up again behind Johnny, passing her fingers through his hair and bending down her face to his; she did not speak. Only her eye went to Mr. Linden for intelligence, as the eye will, even when it has seen for itself!