affect people so yet.
But he was no man," he added, suddenly. "No man ever had such long and
living power! O, that I could believe what my mother taught me, and pray
as I did when I was a boy!"

"If Mas'r pleases," said Tom, "Miss Eva used to read this so
beautifully. I wish Mas'r'd be so good as read it. Don't get no readin',
hardly, now Miss Eva's gone."

The chapter was the eleventh of John,--the touching account of the
raising of Lazarus, St. Clare read it aloud, often pausing to wrestle
down feelings which were roused by the pathos of the story. Tom knelt
before him, with clasped hands, and with an absorbed expression of love,
trust, adoration, on his quiet face.

"Tom," said his Master, "this is all _real_ to you!"

"I can jest fairly _see_ it Mas'r," said Tom.

"I wish I had your eyes, Tom."

"I wish, to the dear Lord, Mas'r had!"

"But, Tom, you know that I have a great deal more knowledge than you;
what if I should tell you that I don't believe this Bible?"

"O, Mas'r!" said Tom, holding up his hands, with a deprecating gesture.

"Wouldn't it shake your faith some, Tom?"

"Not a grain," said Tom.

"Why, Tom, you must know I know the most."

"O, Mas'r, haven't you jest read how he hides from the wise and prudent,
and reveals unto babes? But Mas'r wasn't in earnest, for sartin, now?"
said Tom, anxiously.

"No, Tom, I was not. I don't disbelieve, and I think there is reason to
believe; and still I don't. It's a troublesome bad habit I've got, Tom."

"If Mas'r would only pray!"

"How do you know I don't, Tom?"

"Does Mas'r?"

"I would, Tom, if there was anybody there when I pray; but it's all
speaking unto nothing, when I do. But come, Tom, you pray now, and show
me how."

Tom's heart was full; he poured it out In prayer, like waters that have
been long suppressed. One thing was plain enough; Tom thought there was
somebody to hear, whether there were or not. In fact, St. Clare felt
himself borne, on the tide of his faith and feeling, almost to the gates
of that heaven he seemed so vividly to conceive. It seemed to bring him
nearer to Eva.

"Thank you, my boy," said St. Clare, when Tom rose. "I like to hear you,
Tom; but go, now, and leave me alone; some other time, I'll talk more."

Tom silently left the room.

CHAPTER XXVIII

Reunion

Week after week glided away in the St. Clare mansion, and the waves of
life settled back to their usual flow, where that little bark had
gone d