"'Yes, my dear,' she answered, gazing upwards, 'forever blooming.'
"'Then it is always summer there, mamma?'
"'Yes, dear child--it is the better land on which we dwell in hope. Peace is there, and love.'
"'And shall live there in peace and love?'
"'Mamma,' said the child solemnly, 'I shall be glad when the day comes on which you and papa and I shall be together there, in peace and love. Mamma, you are crying. I have not hurt you, have I?'
"'No, dear child, no. To hear you speak gives me great joy.'
"'Ah, but I can't speak like papa. He has told me of that better world, and though I can't understand all he says, I know it must be very beautiful. Papa is a good man. I love him more than any other man--and I love you, mamma, better than any other woman. Papa is a good man, is he not, mamma?'
"'Yes, my child,' said my lady, 'your father is a good and a just man.'
"My heart leapt into my throat as I heard her speak these words of her husband. Was it possible that this dreadful estrangement was to end, and that my master and his wife would at length be reconciled, after all these weary years?
"My lady was lying back in her chair, gazing now at her boy, now at the bright clouds which were floating in the heavens. Ah, my lady, if we were but to follow God's teaching, and learn the lessons He sends us every day and every hour, how much unhappiness should we be spared! But it seems as if there was a wicked spirit within us which is continually dropping poison into the fairest things, for the mere pleasure of destroying their beauty and making us wretched.
"There was an angelic expression on my lady's face as she encouraged her boy to speak of his father.
"'I have often wished to tell you,' said Master Christian, 'that papa is not strong--not as strong as I am. He soon gets tired, while I can run about all day. This morning he often stopped to rest, and once he threw himself upon the ground, and fell fast asleep. I sat by his side and listened to the birds, who were all so happy, while papa's face was filled with pain. Yes, mamma, he was in great pain, and he sighed, oh, so heavily! as though sleep was hurting him instead of doing him good. And he spoke in his sleep, and his words made me tremble. "I call God to witness"--that was what he said, mamma--"I call God to witness that there was in my mind no design to do wrong." And then he said something about sin and sorrow springing from the flower of innocence. A bird was flying near us, stopping to look at us, and not at all frightened, because I was so very, very quiet. "Little bird," I whispered, "that my father could hold in the palm of his hand, do you know what he is dreaming of, and will you, because he is my father and a good man, do something to make him happy?" Oh, mamma, the bird at that very moment began to sing, and papa smiled in his sleep, and all the pain in his face disappeared. That bird, mamma, was a fairy-bird, and knew that papa ought not to suffer. And presently papa awoke, and folded me tight in his arms, and we sat there quite still, for a long, long time, listening to the singing of the bird. Oh, mamma, mamma! why will you not love papa as I do?'