"You might get ill, and die," said Norton.
"Well, Norton," said Matilda, slowly, "I don't think I am afraid of that. I belong to Jesus. He will take care of me."
"I don't think you know what you are talking of!" said Norton, very impatient, and very much at a loss how to manage Matilda.
"Oh yes, I do!" she said, smiling. "Now I must go in. You needn't come, for there wouldn't be anything for you to do."
Matilda disappeared; and Norton, wishing very much that he could lay hold of her and carry her away by force, did not, however, feel that it would exactly do. He sat down on the door stone of the house, he would not go further, and waited. There was a delicious calm sunlight over all the world that October afternoon; it puzzled Norton how there could be a sick-house anywhere under such a sky. He heard the ponies stamping their idle hoofs against the barn floor; they were spoiling for exercise; why were he and Matilda not out driving, instead of having this state of things? Then some gaily disposed crows went flying overhead, calling a cheery reminder to each other as they went along; they were having a good time. Norton chafed against the barriers that hindered him. Suddenly a swift footstep came over the grass, and Mr. Richmond stood before him.
"Is this the house?" he asked. "Is Matilda here?"
"Yes, sir; and I've tried to get her out. And I can't."
Mr. Richmond went in without more words. A moment after Matilda opened the door he had shut.
"Well! will you go now?" said Norton.
"I must. Mr. Richmond will not let me stay."