“Very,” murmured Madeline.

“I knew you would say so!  But that isn’t all I have got to say.  A great deal more than that came into my head when I was out upon the leads.”

And Roderick nestled closer to his Mother, and laid his arms across her lap.

“Something to comfort you still more, Mamma.”

She could not speak.

“Mamma, you are crying!  I feel your tears on my hand.  Do not cry about me.”

“Go on, dear Roderick.”

“Don’t you think,” continued the child, “that people who wont listen to what is told them, and wont be cured of being foolish and wicked, are very like the old Jews you told us about yesterday, who had God among them, and Moses teaching them what God wished them to do, and still were as disobedient as ever?”

“It is true, Roderick, we are all apt to resemble the Jews in their journey through the wilderness.”

“Yes, Mamma; and particularly people who can’t trust in God, though they know He is everywhere.  The Jews knew He was in the cloud and the pillar, and still were always afraid He couldn’t take care of them.  And what came into my head was, that I used to be as bad as those old Jews once; knowing that God was present everywhere to take care of me, and still not feeling it so as really to believe it, and not be afraid.  But the blindness has quite cured me, and is it not very likely that it came on purpose to do so, and to make me trust in God; for I have done so more and more, dear Mamma, as I groped about this year, for I have all along hoped He would take care of me, and keep me from falling; and, therefore, I think the blindness has done me a great deal of good, and I hope I shall never be like the naughty old Jews again!  This is what I had to say; and I hope you will be as glad as I am.”

“I will try, my darling,” cried poor Madeline.

The tenderest love, the bitterest grief, mixed with earnest struggles for resignation to the will of Heaven, contended in the Mother’s bosom, as she clasped her innocent child to her heart.  He was almost frightened.  She lifted him on to her knees, and buried her face on his shoulder.  He put his young arms round her neck, and almost wondered why she sobbed so bitterly; but he felt he must not speak.

There was a painful pause.  Suddenly, however, a strange faint light began to creep into the room, which had hitherto been gradually darkening in the twilight.  It was a mysterious gleam, like nothing that is ever seen.  It increased in strength and brilliancy, till at length the whole place became illuminated.

Roderick’s head was against his Mother’s breast; and, besides, he could not see.

She, however, suddenly started up; the light had become so powerful, it had forced her from her grief.  She sprung up in terror, and a faint shriek burst from her lips.

“Mamma, what is the matter?” cried Roderick, holding her fast.