he wouldn't think that his hand was his own."
"He would belong to his redeemer?"
"Yes, sir."
"So I think, Norton. Then, tell me, do you think it would be hard work to do anything to please or serve such a friend? Would even hardships seem hard?"
"I can't think what would seem hard," said Norton eagerly.
But then a silence fell upon the little party. Matilda had opened all her ears to hear Norton speak in this manner; she was excited; she almost thought that he was about to enter into the life he seemed to understand so well; but Mr. Richmond went on with his tea quite composedly, and Norton was a little embarrassed. What was the matter? Matilda wished some one would speak again; but Mr. Richmond sent his cup to be filled, and stirred it, and took another piece of toast, and Norton never raised his eyes from his plate.
"That idea is new to you, my boy?" said Mr. Richmond at last, smiling.
"I never – well, yes; – I do not understand those things," said Norton.
"You understood this?"
"Your words; yes, sir."
"And the thing which my words meant?"
"I suppose – yes, I suppose I do," said Norton.
"Do you understand the bearing of it on all of us three at the table."
Norton looked up inquiringly.
"You comprehend how it touches me?"
"Yes, sir," – Norton answered with profound respect in eye and voice.
"And Matilda?"
The boy's eye went quick and sharp to the little figure at the head of the table. What his look meant, Matilda could not tell; and he did not speak.
"You comprehend how it touches Matilda?" Mr. Richmond repeated.
"No, sir," was answered rather stoutly. It had very much the air of not wanting to know.
"You should understand, if you are to live in the same house together. The same Friend has done the same kindness for Matilda that he has done for me; he has given himself to death that she might live; and she has heard it and believed it, and obeyed his voice and become his servant. What sort of life ought she to live?"
Norton stared at Mr. Richmond, not in the least rudely, but like one very much discomfited. He looked as if he were puzzling to find his way out of a trap. But Matilda clapped her hands together, exclaiming,
"I am so glad Norton understands that! I never could make him understand it."
"Why you never tried," said Norton.
"O yes, I did, Norton; in different ways. I suppose I never said it so that you could understand it."
"I don't understand it now," said Norton.
"O Mr. Richmond! don't he?" said Matilda.
"Tell him," said the minister. "Perhaps you put it too cautiously. Tell him in words that he cannot mistake, what sort of life you mean to lead."
The little girl hesitated and looked at Norton. Norton, like one acting under protest, looked at her. They waited, questioning each other's faces.
"It is that, Norton," Matilda said at last very gently, and with a sort of tenderness in tone and manner which spoke for her. "It is just that you said. I do not think that my hand is my own."
Norton looked at the little hand unconsciously extended to point her words, as if he would have liked to confiscate it; he made no reply, but turned to his supper again. The conversation had taken a turn he did not welcome.
"We have not done with the subject," Mr. Richmond went on. "You see how it touches me now, and how it touches Matilda. You know by your own shewing, what sort of life she ought to lead; and so you will know how you ought to help her and not hinder her in it. But Norton, – how does it touch you?"
The boy was not ready with an answer. Then he said, —
"I don't see that it touches me any way, sir."
"On honour?" said Mr. Richmond gently. "That same Friend has done the same kindness for you."
Norton looked as if he wished it were not true; and as if very unwilling to admit anything.
"I wish you could hear what I hear," said Mr. Richmond. "So many voices! – "
"What, sir?" asked both the children at once.
"So many voices!" repeated Mr. Richmond. "I hear the voice of love now, from the skies, speaking that soft, sweet 'Come!' in the heart. I hear my own voice giving the message. I hear the promise to them who seek for glory, honour, and immortality. And I hear the sound of the harps of those who have a new song to sing, which none can learn but the hundred and forty and four thousand which have been redeemed from the earth. And I hear the rejoicing in heaven of those who will say, 'Thou wast slain, and hast redeemed us to God by thy blood, out of every kindred and tongue and people and nation; and hast made us unto our God kings and priests, and we shall reign on the earth.' And then there is a throne and a judgment seat, and I hear a voice that says, 'Well done, good and faithful servant; enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.' – "
Mr. Richmond's voice had fallen a little; his eyes were cast down. Norton's eyes were downcast too, and his face; it did not respond, as Matilda's face did; and when the party rose from table a minute or two afterwards, Norton made use of his liberty to quit the room and the house. Matilda brought her tub of water to wash up the cups and plates. Mr. Richmond had gone off to his study.
The little girl touched the china with soft delicate fingers; lifted each piece and set it down with gentle noiselessness; the little clink of the china keeping measure, perhaps, with the thoughts which moved and touched, so gently, in her heart. Presently Mr. Richmond came out again. He walked up and down the little room several times; it was a small walk, for a very few of his steps took him from one corner to the other; then he came and stood beside the table where Matilda was at work. The child stopped and looked up at him wistfully. Their eyes met; and a smile of much love and confidence was exchanged between the two.
"Mr. Richmond," – said Matilda, "isn't it difficult, sometimes, to keep hearing those voices?"
You could see the light spring into the young man's eyes; but he answered very quietly, "Why, Matilda?"
"I think it is difficult," the child repeated.
"You find it so?"
"I think, sometimes, Mr. Richmond, I don't hear them at all."
"It is not necessary to be always thinking about them."
"No, I know that; but sometimes I seem to get out of the sound of them."
"How comes that?"
"I don't know. I think it must be because I am hearing other voices so much."
"You are right." Mr. Richmond began his pacing up and down again. Matilda stood with a cup in her hands which she had been washing, the water dripping from her fingers and it into the tub.
"How
