A Red Wallflower. Warner Susan

      'Is thought like fire?'

      'So far, it is. What were you thinking about, Queen Esther?'

      'I had been wanting to ask you about it, Pitt,' the girl said, a little with the air of one who is rousing herself up to give a confidence. 'I was looking for something and I did not know where to find it.'

      'Looking for what?'

      'I remembered, mamma said people could always find comfort in the

       Bible; but I did not know how to look for it.'

      'Comfort, Queen Esther!' said Pitt, rousing himself now; 'you were not in want of that article, were you?'

      'After you were gone, you know—I hadn't anybody left. And oh, Pitt, are you going to—England?'

      'One thing at a time. Tell me about this extraordinary want of comfort, at twelve years old. That is improper, Queen Esther!'

      'Why?' she said, casting up to him a pair of such wistful, sensitive, beautiful eyes, that the young man was almost startled.

      'People at your age ought to have comfort enough to give away to other people.'

      'I shouldn't think they could, always,' said Esther quaintly.

      'What is the matter with you?'

      Esther looked down, a little uneasily. She felt that Pitt ought to have known. And he did know; however, he thought it advisable to have things brought out into the full light and put into form; hoping they might so be easier dealt with. Esther's next words were hardly consecutive, although perfectly intelligible.

      'I know, of course, you cannot stay here always.'

      'Of course. But then I shall always be coming back.'

      Esther sighed. She was thinking that the absences were long and the times of being at home short; but what was the use of talking about it? That lesson, that words do not change the inevitable, she had already learned. Pitt was concerned.

      'Where did you say your highness went to look for comfort?'

      'In the Bible. Oh, yes, that was what I wanted your help about. I did not know how to look; and papa said he didn't; or I don't know if he said exactly that, but it came to the same thing. And then I asked Barker.'

      'Was she any wiser?'

      'No. She said her way of finding anything was to begin at one end and go through to the other; so I tried that. I began at the beginning; and I read on; but I found nothing until—I'll show you,' she said, suddenly breaking off and darting away; and in two minutes more she came back with her Bible. She turned over the leaves eagerly.

      'Here, Pitt—I came to this. Now what does it mean?'

      She gave him the volume open at the sixth chapter of Numbers; in the end of which is the prescribed form for the blessing of the children of Israel. Pitt read the words to himself.

      'The Lord bless thee, and keep thee. 'The Lord make His face shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee. 'The Lord lift up His countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.'

      Esther waited till she saw he had read them through.

      'Now, Pitt, what does that mean?'

      'Which?'

      'That last: "The Lord lift up His countenance upon thee, and give thee peace." What does "lift up his countenance upon thee" mean?'

      What did it mean? Pitt asked himself the question for the first time in his life. He was quite silent.

      'You see,' said Esther quaintly, after a pause—'you see, that would be comfort.'

      Pitt was still silent.

      'Do you understand it, Pitt?'

      'Understand it, Esther!' he said, knitting his brows, 'No. Nobody could do that, except—the people that had it. But I think I see what it means.'

      'The people "that had it"? That had what?'

      'This wonderful thing.'

      'What wonderful thing?'

      'Queen Esther, you ought to ask your father.'

      'I can't ask papa,' said the little girl. 'If ever I speak to him of comfort, he thinks directly of mamma. I cannot ask him again.'

      'And I am all your dependence?' he said half lightly.

      'I mustn't depend upon you either. Only, now you are here, I thought I would ask you.'

      'You ought to have a better counsellor. However, perhaps I can tell what you want to know, in part. Queen Esther, was your mother, or your father, ever seriously displeased with you?'

      Esther reflected, a little astonished, and then said no.

      'I suppose not!' said Pitt. 'Then you don't know by experience what it would be, to have either of them refuse to look at you or smile upon you?—hide their face from you, in short?'

      'Why, no! never.'

      'You're a happy girl.'

      'But what has that to do with it?'

      'Nothing to do with it; it is the very contrast and opposite, in fact.

       Don't you see? "Lift up the light of thy countenance;"—you know what

       the "light" of a smiling, loving face of approval is? You know that, Queen Esther?'

      'That?' repeated Esther breathlessly. 'Yes, I know; but this is God.'

      'Yes, and I do not understand; but that is what it means.'

      'You don't understand!'

      'No. How should I? But that is what it means. Something that answers to what among us a bright face of love is, when it smiles upon us. That is "light," isn't it?'

      'Yes,' said Esther. 'But how can this be, Pitt?'

      'I cannot tell. But that is what it means. "The Lord make His face to shine upon thee." They are very fine words.'

      'Then I suppose,' said Esther slowly, 'if anybody had that, he wouldn't want comfort?'

      'He wouldn't be without it, you mean? Well, I should think he would not. "The Lord lift up His countenance upon thee, and give thee peace."'

      'But I don't understand, Pitt.'

      'No, Queen Esther. This is something beyond you and me.'

      'How can one come to understand?'

      Pitt was silent a minute, looking down at the words. 'I do not know,' he said. 'That is a question. It is a look of favour and love described here; but of course it would not give peace, unless the person receiving it knew he had it. How that can be, I do not see.'

      Both were silent a little while.

      'Well,' said Esther, 'you have given me a great deal of help.'

      'How?'

      'Oh, you have told me what this means,' said the child, hanging over the words, which Pitt still held.

      'That does not give it to you.'

      'No; but it is a great deal, to know what it means,' said Esther, in a tone which Pitt felt had a good element of hopefulness in it.

      'What are you going to do about it?'

      Esther lifted her head and looked at him. It was one of those looks which were older than her years; far-reaching, spiritual, with an intense mixture of pathos and hope in her eyes.

      'I shall go on trying to get it,' she said. 'You know, Pitt, it is different with you. You go out into the world, and you have everything you want; but I am here quite alone.'

CHAPTER XI.