“There’s a small allowance of money,” said the schoolmaster.  “It is not much, but enough to live upon in this retired spot.  By clubbing our funds together, we shall do bravely; no fear of that.”

“Heaven bless and prosper you!” sobbed the child.

“Amen, my dear,” returned her friend cheerfully, “and all of us, as it will, and has, in leading us through sorrow and trouble, to this tranquil life.  But we must look at my house now.  Come!”

To make their dwellings habitable, and as full of comfort as they could, was now their pleasant care, and in a short time each had a cheerful fire crackling on the hearth.  Nell, busily plying her needle, repaired the tattered window-hangings, and made them whole and decent.  The schoolmaster swept the ground before the door, trimmed the long grass, trained the ivy and creeping plants, and gave to the outer walls a cheery air of home.  The old man lent his aid to both, went here and there on little patient services and was happy.  Neighbors too, proffered their help, or sent their children with such small presents or loans as the strangers needed most.  It was a busy day, and night came on all too soon.

They took their supper together, and when they had finished it, drew round the fire and discussed their future plans.  Before they separated, the schoolmaster read some prayers aloud; and then, full of gratitude and happiness, they parted for the night.

When every sound was hushed, and her grandfather sleeping, the child lingered before the dying embers, and thought of her past fortunes as if they had been a dream, and the deep and thoughtful feelings which absorbed her, gave her no sensation of terror or alarm.  A change had been gradually stealing over her, in the time of her loneliness and sorrow.  With failing strength and heightened resolution, there had sprung up a purified and altered mind; there had grown in her bosom those blessed hopes and thoughts which are the portion of few but the weak and drooping.  There were none to see the frail figure as it glided from the fire and leaned pensively at the casement; none but the stars to look into the upturned face and read its history.

It was long before the child closed the window, and approached her bed—­but when she did—­it was to sink into a sleep filled with sweet and happy dreams.

With the morning came the renewal of yesterday’s labors, the revival of its pleasant thoughts, the restoration of its energies, cheerfulness and hope.  They worked gayly until noon, and then visited the clergyman, who received them kindly, and at once showed an interest in Nell.  The schoolmaster had already told her story.  They had no other friends or home to leave, he said, and had come to share his fortunes.  He loved the child as though she were his own.

“Well, well,” said the clergyman.  “Let it be as you desire, she is very young.”

“Old in adversity and trial, sir,” replied the schoolmaster.