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'
A little hand indeed,' said the poor schoolmaster. 'Far beyond all his
companions, in his learning and his sports too, how did he ever come
to be so fond of me! That I should love him is no wonder, but that he
should love me - ' and there the schoolmaster stopped, and took off
his spectacles to wipe them, as though they had grown dim.
'I hope there is nothing the matter,sir,' said Nell anxiously.
'
Not much, my dear,' returned the schoolmaster. 'I hoped to have seen
him on the green to-night. He was always foremost among them. But
he'll be there to-morrow.'
'
Has he been ill?' asked the child, with a child's quick sympathy.
Not very. They said he was wandering in his head yesterday, dear boy,
'
and so they said the day before. But that's a part of that kind of
disorder; it's not a bad sign - not at all a bad sign.' The child was
silent. He walked to the door, and looked wistfully out. The shadows of
night were gathering, and all was still.
'If he could lean upon anybody's arm, he would come to me, I know,'
he said, returning into the room. 'He always came into the garden to
say good night. But perhaps his illness has only just taken a
favourable turn, and it's too late for him to come out, for it's very
damp and there's a heavy dew. it's much better he shouldn't come to-
night.'
The schoolmaster lighted a candle, fastened the window-shutter, and
closed the door. But after he had done this, and sat silent a little time,
he took down his hat, and said he would go and satisfy himself, if Nell
would sit up till he returned. The child readily complied, and he went
out.
She sat there half-an-hour or more, feeling the place very strange and
lonely, for she had prevailed upon the old man to go to bed, and there
was nothing to be heard but the ticking of an old clock, and the
whistling of the wind among the trees. When he returned, he took his
seat in the chimney corner, but remained silent for a long time. At
length he turned to her, and speaking very gently, hoped she would
say a prayer that night for a sick child.
'
My favourite scholar!' said the poor schoolmaster, smoking a pipe he
had forgotten to light, and looking mournfully round upon the walls.
It is a little hand to have done all that, and waste away with sickness.
It is a very, very little hand!'
'
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