“I shall; so you may feel easy about being alone down here.  There could be no disturbance, I think, without my knowing it.  Let Clam be here to keep you company; and take the best rest you can.”

It was impossible for Elizabeth to say a word of thanks, or of his kindness; the words choked her; she was mute.

“Can I do anything, Mr. Landholm?”

“Nothing in the world —­ but manage your thoughts,” he said smiling.

Elizabeth was almost choked again, with the rising of tears this time.

“But Mr. Landholm —­ about that —­ what is wrong cannot be necessary; there must be some way of managing them?”

“You know it,” he said simply.

But it finished Elizabeth’s power of speech.  She did not even attempt to look up; she sat pressing her chin with her hand, endeavouring to keep down her heart and to keep steady her quivering lips.  Her companion, who in the midst of all her troubles she many times that evening thought was unlike any other person that ever walked, presently went out into the hall and called to Clam over the balusters.

“Is he going to give her directions about taking care of me?” thought Elizabeth in a great maze, as Winthrop came back into the parlour and sat down again.  When Clam appeared however he only bade her take a seat; and then bringing forth a bible from his pocket he opened it and read the ninety-first psalm.  Hardly till then it dawned upon Elizabeth what he was thinking to do; and then the words that he read went through and through her heart like drawn daggers.  One after another, one after another.  Little he imagined, who read, what strength her estimate of the reader’s character gave them; nor how that same estimate made every word of his prayer tell, and go home to her spirit with the sharpness as well as the gentleness of Ithuriel’s spear.  When Elizabeth rose from her knees, it was with a bowed head which she could in no wise lift up; and after Winthrop had left the room, Clam stood looking at her mistress and thinking her own thoughts, as long as she pleased unrebuked.

“One feels sort o’ good after that, now, don’t they?” was her opening remark, when Elizabeth’s head was at last raised from her hands.  “Do you think the roof of any house would ever fall in over his head?  He’s better’n a regiment o’ soldiers.”

“Is everything attended to down stairs, Clam?”

“All’s straight where the Governor is,” said Clam with a sweeping bend of her head, and going about to set the room in order; —­ “there ain’t two straws laid the wrong way.”

“Where he is!” repeated Elizabeth —­ “He isn’t in the kitchen, I suppose, Clam.”

“Whenever he’s in the house, always seems to me he’s all over,” said Clam.  “It’s about that.  He’s a governor, you know.  Now Miss ‘Lizabeth, how am I goin’ to fix you for the night?”

“No way,” said Elizabeth.  “I shall just sleep here, as I am.  Let the lamps burn, and shut down the blinds.”