e, how beautiful would even death appear;
for how much charity, mercy, and purified affection, would be seen to
have their growth in dusty graves!'

'Yes,' said the child, 'it is the truth; I know it is. Who should feel
its force so much as I, in whom your little scholar lives again! Dear,
dear, good friend, if you knew the comfort you have given me!'

The poor schoolmaster made her no answer, but bent over her in silence;
for his heart was full.

They were yet seated in the same place, when the grandfather
approached. Before they had spoken many words together, the church
clock struck the hour of school, and their friend withdrew.

'A good man,' said the grandfather, looking after him; 'a kind man.
Surely he will never harm us, Nell. We are safe here, at last, eh? We
will never go away from here?'

The child shook her head and smiled.

'She needs rest,' said the old man, patting her cheek; 'too pale--too
pale. She is not like what she was.'

When?' asked the child.

'Ha!' said the old man, 'to be sure--when? How many weeks ago? Could
I count them on my fingers? Let them rest though; they're better
gone.' 'Much better, dear,' replied the child. 'We will forget them;
or, if we ever call them to mind, it shall be only as some uneasy dream
that has passed away.'

'Hush!' said the old man, motioning hastily to her with his hand and
looking over his shoulder; 'no more talk of the dream, and all the
miseries it brought. There are no dreams here. 'Tis a quiet place,
and they keep away. Let us never think about them, lest they should
pursue us again. Sunken eyes and hollow cheeks--wet, cold, and
famine--and horrors before them all, that were even worse--we must
forget such things if we would be tranquil here.'

'Thank Heaven!' inwardly exclaimed the child, 'for this most happy
change!'

'I will be patient,' said the old man, 'humble, very thankful, and
obedient, if you will let me stay. But do not hide from me; do not
steal away alone; let me keep beside you. Indeed, I will be very true
and faithful, Nell.'

'I steal away alone! why that,' replied the child, with assumed gaiety,
'would be a pleasant jest indeed. See here, dear grandfather, we'll
make this place our garden--why not! It is a very good one--and
to-morrow we'll begin, and work together, side by side.'

'It is a brave thought!' cried her grandfather. 'Mind, darling--we
begin to-morrow!'

Who so delighted as the old man, when the