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| 1 | 133 | 265 | 398 | 530 |
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everywhere, and may come here, and steal upon us, even while we're
talking?'
'
Because I'm sure we have not been followed,' said the child. 'Judge for
yourself, dear grandfather: look round, and see how quiet and still it
is. We are alone together, and may ramble where we like. Not safe!
Could I feel easy - did I feel at ease - when any danger threatened
you?'
'
True, too,' he answered, pressing her hand, but still looking anxiously
about. 'What noise was that?'
'
A bird,' said the child, 'flying into the wood, and leading the way for
us to follow.' You remember that we said we would walk in woods and
fields, and by the side of rivers, and how happy we would be - you
remember that? But here, while the sun shines above our heads, and
everything is bright and happy, we are sitting sadly down, and losing
time. See what a pleasant path; and there's the bird - the same bird -
now he flies to another tree, and stays to sing. Come!'
When they rose up from the ground, and took the shady track which
led them through the wood, she bounded on before, printing her tiny
footsteps in the moss, which rose elastic from so light a pressure and
gave it back as mirrors throw off breath; and thus she lured the old
man on, with many a backward look and merry beck, now pointing
stealthily to some lone bird as it perched and twittered on a branch
that strayed across their path, now stopping to listen to the songs that
broke the happy silence, or watch the sun as it trembled through the
leaves, and stealing in among the ivied trunks of stout old trees,
opened long paths of light. As they passed onward, parting the boughs
that clustered in their way, the serenity which the child had first
assumed, stole into her breast in earnest; the old man cast no longer
fearful looks behind, but felt at ease and cheerful, for the further they
passed into the deep green shade, the more they felt that the tranquil
mind of God was there, and shed its peace on them.
At length the path becoming clearer and less intricate, brought them
to the end of the wood, and into a public road. Taking their way along
it for a short distance, they came to a lane, so shaded by the trees on
either hand that they met together over-head, and arched the narrow
way. A broken finger-post announced that this led to a village three
miles off; and thither they resolved to bend their steps.
The miles appeared so long that they sometimes thought they must
have missed their road. But at last, to their great joy, it led
downwards in a steep descent, with overhanging banks over which the
footpaths led; and the clustered houses of the village peeped from the
woody hollow below.
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