CHAPTER III.

The Child awoke happier than ever, and began to prepare a feast for his little sister; but when he had finished, and stood in the entrance of the cave looking toward the sea, a cold shudder crept over him. Now the waves were sparkling and laughing, and he knew that thousands of happy creatures were busy amongst them; but he could not forget the storm and the wailing voices, for he thought of the tender mother whose kind eyes might have smiled on him, who was lying there. So he turned from the sea, but he could not turn from the thought. And as they were walking again by the green path into the wood, at length he ventured to say,--

"Sister, was our mother with you on that stormy night?"

"Yes," she said, very sorrowfully; "we were all in the ship together."

"Then," he said, "if God could take care of you, may He not have taken care of her, and be bringing her to us?"

The maiden shook her head and murmured,--

"She is dead, brother; she will never come to us. It is death that keeps her from us."

"What is death?" said the child.

"I do not know," replied the maiden, her tears beginning to flow again; "she is happy with God; but she will never come to us again."

The Child was silent for some minutes. Then he said,--

"It must be the same that happened to my own dear little bird last winter."

"What little bird?"

"My little bird which used to come and sing to me every day whilst I took my breakfast, and eat from my hand, until one morning I found it lying quite still on the mossy bank. I spoke to it, but it would not open its eyes; and when I took it up, its little breast and wings, which were always so soft and warm, were quite cold. And it never sang to me again."

"Yes," said the maiden softly, "that must have been death."

They walked on some steps without speaking, till the Child said,--

"Why does God let anything die, when He is so good?"

"My mother said it was not God who sent death into the world," she replied, "but sin; and God and sin cannot dwell together."

"What is sin?" asked the Child.

"It is when we are fretful or unkind, or when we are loving ourselves best," she said.

And then she told him all she knew about the beautiful Garden, and the two happy people for whom God made it all; and of the Enemy who tempted them to distrust God's love and disobey Him. And since then, she said, sin and death had never left the world.

The Child looked very much perplexed and grieved, and asked if that was the end of all God had made so good and happy?

Then the little maiden told him another story of wonderful love and sorrow: of One, great and good and glorious above all, who left the happy heavens and came down to bear all the sin; of His poor cradle in the manger, about which the angels came to sing; of His being so poor that He had not where to lay His head; of His walking about teaching until He was weary; of the sick people He healed; of the little dead girl whose cold hand He touched, and she sat up and began to speak; of His taking little children in His arms, laying His hands on them, and blessing them; and then of where the cruel people stretched those kind arms which had been folded so tenderly around their little ones;--until the Child hid his face on the mossy bank where they were sitting, and wept as if his heart would break.

Tears were in the little maiden's eyes also, yet she was frightened to see him sob so bitterly, and tried to comfort him; but he only wept on and sobbed out,--

"O sister! I cannot bear to live, since He is dead!"

Then the maiden's eyes glistened with joy, and she took his hands, and said,--

"He is not dead, brother--He rose from the cold grave where they laid Him, and now He is alive for evermore in heaven; and He loves little children just as He used: and one day He will come and take us up to be with Him."

"_Shall we see Him?_" said the Child, his tears stopping in a moment, as he looked up with a beaming face, "will He speak to us, to _you_ and to _me_?"

The little maiden believed surely that He would.

"And is our mother with Him?" asked the Child.

"I am sure she is; she loved Him so dearly!" the little girl replied.

"Then we must never wish her back, sister," he said; "only think how happy she must be!"

So all day the happy children wandered about the wood, and spoke of the blessed stories the little maiden had heard from her mother or read in the Book, their hearts full of that Name which is above every name. And when evening came, and they had knelt together in prayer, the little maiden began to sing a hymn.

She sang of God, and of Him who loved God and loved men, and offered Himself up to keep the holy law, and save lost and sinful men who had broken it. She thanked Him for making everything so good and beautiful; she thanked Him for so loving and redeeming them. The words were very simple, but the things she sang about were very high and deep; and as the Child listened to her, he heard again the old, sweet, solemn Song; sweet and solemn as he had never heard it before. It pealed up from the waves and the countless multitudes of living creatures who dwelt in them; it streamed from the wood in a thousand tones of joy; it thrilled from star to star through the heavens;--and every silvery note of melody, and every grand burst of harmony, fitted into the words of the little maiden's song, and echoed the sacred Name she uttered.

The Child listened for some time in a trance of speechless joy, till (he scarcely knew how) the love and thankfulness which were in his heart burst from his lips, and he also sang the Words of the Song.