“Yes sir.  You are better.  I thank God for it.  And also for this hospitable roof and the kind care these people have taken of you in your illness.  The Lord’s angel must have guided your steps to this house, and mine also”.

“This house, sir! whose is it?”

“It belongs to Mr. Dubois”.

“Ah!  I recollect.  I came here with him and have been ill several days.  And the country is—­”

“Miramichi”, said Mr. Norton.  “A desperate region sir.  A land where the darkness may be felt”.

Just then a ray of red, burning sunshine shot into the room.  The good man modified his remark, exclaiming, “Morally, sir, morally”.

Observing a cloud of anxiety stealing over Mr. Brown’s face, he went on.

“Now, my dear sir, let me tell you—­you have been very ill for two weeks.  The danger in your case is now over, but you are extremely weak, and need, for a time, the attention of the two lovely nurses, who watched over you yesterday and are ready to bestow kind care upon you again to-day.  You must lay aside, for the present, all troubles of mind and estate, and devote yourself to getting well.  When you are somewhat stronger, I have excellent things to tell you”.

“Excellent things!” exclaimed Mr. Brown, excitedly,—­a flush overspreading his wan features.  “Has the traitor been found?” Then with a profound sigh of disappointment, he uttered feebly—­

“Ah! you do not know”.

“I do not know what your particular trouble is, my dear sir, but I know of a way to relieve you of that, or any other burden that weighs on your spirits.  I will inform you when you get stronger.  What you need now, is a cup of oatmeal gruel, mingled with a tea-spoonful of wine, which shall immediately be presented to you by the youthful queen of this mansion”.

He turned to go and call Adele.  But Mr. Brown motioned him to remain.

“Do you reside here, sir?” he asked, in accents indicating great prostration and despondency.

“No, sir.  I arrived here only a few hours before you.  I am from the State of ——.  You are also from that region, and I shall not leave you until I see you with your face set towards your native soil.  Now, my dear sir, be quiet.  Perhaps your life depends on it”.

“My life is not worth a penny to anybody”.

“It is worth ten thousand pounds and more to your friends.  Be quiet, I say”.

And Mr. Norton went out of the room, gently but decisively.  Mr. Brown’s eyes followed him as he closed the door.

Already he felt the magnetic power of that good and sympathizing heart, of that honest, upright soul, which inspired by heavenly love and zeal, cast rays of life and happiness wherever it moved.

Moreover, he was too much prostrated in mind and body, vigorously to grasp the circumstances of his situation, whatever they might be.  Pain and debility had dulled his faculties and the sharpness of his sorrow also.  The good missionary’s cheery voice and heartfelt smile soothed, for the time, his wounded spirit.  It was as if he had taken a sip of Lethe and had come into the land in which it always seemeth afternoon.