Here were two, each thinking that God had
forsaken him, or was not to be found by him, and each the very love
of God, commissioned to tend the other's heart. In each was he
present to the other. The one thought himself the happiest of
mortals in waiting upon his big brother, whose least smile was joy
enough for one day; the other wondered at the unconscious goodness
of the boy, and while he gazed at his ruddy-brown face, believed in
God.
For some time after Ericson was taken ill, he was too depressed and
miserable to ask how he was cared for. But by slow degrees it
dawned upon him that a heart deep and gracious, like that of a
woman, watched over him. True, Robert was uncouth, but his
uncouthness was that of a half-fledged angel. The heart of the man
and the heart of the boy were drawn close together. Long before
Ericson was well he loved Robert enough to be willing to be indebted
to him, and would lie pondering--not how to repay him, but how to
return his kindness.
How much Robert's ambition to stand well in the eyes of Miss St.
John contributed to his progress I can only imagine; but certainly
his ministrations to Ericson did not interfere with his Latin and
Greek. I venture to think that they advanced them, for difficulty
adds to result, as the ramming of the powder sends the bullet the
further. I have heard, indeed, that when a carrier wants to help
his horse up hill, he sets a boy on his back.
Ericson made little direct acknowledgment to Robert: his tones, his
gestures, his looks, all thanked him; but he shrunk from words, with
the maidenly shamefacedness that belongs to true feeling.
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