him now of a forlorn, lonely child,
awaiting his coming as the flowers look for the sun. Things were rather
turned about; he thought of Esther as the one in the sunlight, and
himself as in need of illumination. He thought of her as needing no
comfort that he could give; he half hoped to find the way to peace
through her leading. But yes, she would be glad to see him; she would
not have forgotten him nor lost her old affection for her old
playfellow, though the entire cessation of letters from either her or
her father had certainly been inexplicable. Probably it might be
explained by some crankiness of the colonel. Esther would certainly be
glad to see him. He quickened his steps to reach the house.

He hardly knew it when he came to it, the aspect of things was so
different from what he remembered. Truly it had been always a quiet
house, with never a rush of company or a crowd of voices; but there had
been life; and now?--Pitt stood still at the little gate and looked,
with a sudden blank of disappointment. There could be nobody there. The
house was shut up and dead. Not a window was open; not a door. In the
little front garden the flowers had grown up wild and were struggling
with weeds; the grass of the lawn at the side was rank and unmown; the
honeysuckle vines in places were hanging loose and uncared-for, waving
in the wind in a way that said eloquently, 'Nobody is here.' There was
not much wind that summer day, just enough to move the honeysuckle
sprays. Pitt stood and looked and queried; then yielding to some
unconscious impulse, he went in through the neglected flowers to the
deserted verandah, and spent a quarter of an hour in twining and
securing the loose vines. He was thinking hard all the time. This was
the place where he remembered sitting with Esther that day when she
asked help of him about getting comfort. He remembered it well; he
recalled the girl's subdued manner, and the sorrowful craving in the
large beautiful eyes. _Now_ Esther had found what she sought, and
to-day he was nearly as unable to understand her as he had been to help
her then. He fastened up the honeysuckles, and then he went and sat
down on the step of the verandah and took Esther's letter out of his
breast pocket, and read it over. He had read it many times. He did not
comprehend it; but this he comprehended--that to her at least there was
something in religion more heartfelt than a form, and more satisfying
than a profession. To her