“There’s a little business as must be did afore I go,” said Jim, to Mr. Benedict in the evening, “an’ I sh’d like to have ye go with me, if ye feel up to’t.”  Mr. Benedict felt up to it, and the two went out together.  They walked along the silent street, and saw the great mill, ablaze with light.  The mist from the falls showed white in the frosty air, and, without saying a word, they crossed the bridge, and climbed a hill dotted with little dwellings.

Jim’s heart was in his mouth, for his fears that ill had happened to the little tailoress had made him nervous; and when, at length, he caught sight of the light in her window, he grasped Mr. Benedict by the arm almost fiercely, and exclaimed: 

“It’s all right.  The little woman’s in, an’ waitin’.  Can you see my har?”

Having been assured that it was in a presentable condition, Jim walked boldly up to the door and knocked.  Having been admitted by the same girl who had received him before, there was no need to announce his name.  Both men went into the little parlor of the house, and the girl in great glee ran upstairs to inform Miss Butterworth that there were two men and a dog in waiting, who wished to see her.  Miss Butterworth came down from busy work, like one in a hurry, and was met by Jim with extended hand, and the gladdest smile that ever illuminated a human face.

“How fare ye, little woman?” said he.  “I’m glad to see ye—­gladder nor I can tell ye.”

There was something in the greeting so hearty, so warm and tender and full of faith, that Miss Butterworth was touched.  Up to that moment he had made no impression upon her heart, and, quite to her surprise, she found that she was glad to see him.  She had had a world of trouble since she had met Jim, and the great, wholesome nature, fresh from the woods, and untouched by the trials of those with whom she was in daily association, was like a breeze in the feverish summer, fresh from the mountains.  She was, indeed, glad to see him, and surprised by the warmth of the sentiment that sprang within her heart in response to his greeting.

Miss Butterworth looked inquiringly, and with some embarrassment at the stranger.

“That’s one o’ yer old friends, little woman,” said Jim.  “Don’t give ’im the cold shoulder.  ’Tain’t every day as a feller comes to ye from the other side o’ Jordan.”

Miss Butterworth naturally suspected the stranger’s identity, and was carefully studying his face to assure herself that Mr. Benedict was really in her presence.  When some look of his eyes, or motion of his body, brought her the conclusive evidence of his identity, she grasped both his hands, and said: 

“Dear, dear, Mr. Benedict! how much you have suffered!  I thank God for you, and for the good friend He has raised up to help you.  It’s like seeing one raised from the dead.”