"As soon as the thief touched her arm, the girl awoke, and shrieked aloud; and, when they could not quiet her cries, the men struck at her with their sharp knives, and left her dead.

"Then the angel whispered, 'Daisy, there is only one hand that can save; there is one eye that watches, over rich and poor, the crowded city and the lonely wood, alike. That eye is G.o.d's; unless he keep the city, the watchman walketh in vain.'

"So, Maud, the angel will take care of us, if we only trust in her."

Maud's fears were quieted so far by Daisy's words, that she urged her sister now to go and seek the dame, and leave her there alone.

The truth was, Maud had a feeling that, if poor little Daisy had an angel to watch over her, she, who was so much more beautiful, could not be left to perish. Perhaps, even the glorious Christ would come; and if he did, she would rather not have her sister in the way.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE FAIRY'S CAVE.

The old dame had built a fire in the corner of her cave, and sat, alone, watching the embers.

Presently she heard a sound unlike the storm--a parting of the bushes outside, a crackling of dry sticks upon the ground; and, all at once, Daisy's bright face appeared, seeming to bring a sunshine into the gloomy den.

Daisy was dripping with rain, and felt a little afraid that the dame would scold her because her feet made wet tracks on the floor.

But the fairy seemed in a merry mood to-night--perhaps she was glad of some one to keep her company. She laughed till the old cave rang again, when her visitor told that she had been frightened by the storm; for she said it was music in her ears, and ought to be in the ears of every one.

So she drew a stool before the fire for Daisy, and, while wringing the dampness from her dress, asked what had become of the spectacles.

"O, they are safe enough," answered Daisy. "I know now how much they are worth, and what a splendid present you gave me, though it seemed so poor. You are very good to us, dame."

"Better than I seem--always better than I seem," she muttered, looking into the fire still. "Now, if you think so much of your gla.s.ses, put them on."

Daisy wiped the water from them on a corner of the fairy's dress, for her own was too wet, and did as she was told.

And, down, down miles beneath the cave, she saw fires burning, blazing, flashing, flaming about, and filling the whole centre of the earth; beside them the lightning was dull, and the old dame's fire seemed hardly a spark.

She saw whole acres of granite--the hard stone that lay in pieces about the wood, half covered with moss and violets; acres of this were rolling and foaming like the river in a storm, melted and boiling in the fiery flames.

"Why, in a few minutes, the cave itself, and all the earth, will melt, and we shall be burned up," said Daisy, alarmed.

"O, no," laughed the fairy. "The fire was kindled thousands of years before you were born; and the granite your violets grow upon has boiled like this in its day; but we are not burned yet, and shall not be.

There's a bridge over the fire."

And, surely enough, when Daisy looked again, she saw great cold ribs of rock rising above the flames and above the sea of boiling stone, up and out, like arches on every side. Upon this rock the earth was heaped, layer above layer, until on its outside countries, and cities, and great forests were planted, and fastened together, it seemed, by rivers and seas.

In the beds of rivers, in crevices of rock, in depths of the earth, were hidden precious stones and metals; and where the rocks rose highest, they formed what we call mountains, that buried their soaring heads in the sky, and stretched along the earth for many hundred miles.

"What can this rock be made of?" asked Daisy. "Look!" and, to her wonder, she saw that it was all little cells, crowded with insects of different kinds. She asked the dame how many there were in one piece of stone which she picked up, and which was about an inch square.

"About forty-one thousand millions of one kind, and many more of another," she answered carelessly.

"You could not make Maud believe that," thought Daisy; and the dame, as if seeing into her mind, continued,--

"But it is only the one little world we live in which you have seen thus far: look above."

The roof of the cave seemed gone; and Daisy beheld the stars, not far off and still, as they had always seemed, but close about her, whirling, waltzing, chasing each other in circles, with such tremendous speed that it made one dizzy to watch.

And they were no longer little points of light, but worlds like ours--many of them larger than our earth, which was whirling too, and seemed so small that Daisy hardly noticed it amidst the beaming suns.

There were no handles, no fastenings, no beams, or ropes, or anchors to those flying worlds, that dashed along at such mad speed; she wondered they did not strike against each other, and shatter, and fall.

"O, no," said the dame; "the Hand which made these worlds can keep them in their places. But how many stars do you suppose there are?"

"O, I could not count them in a week."

"No, nor in a lifetime. It takes more than that to count one million; and there are more than twenty million worlds."

"There will be no use in telling that to Maud," thought Daisy; "she'll never believe me."

And again the fairy saw into her heart, and answered, "Only the pure in heart can see G.o.d, and believe in him. Maud thinks there is no truth, because her weak mind cannot grasp it.

"Now, Daisy, think that all these worlds are G.o.d's--made, and watched, and loved by him. You see in many of them mountains such as the piece of stone you looked into; you see rivers, earth, and sky; and I tell you the truth when I say, that all of these are crowded, fuller than you can dream, with creatures He has made. And cannot He who made the lightning govern it? So, do not fear the howling of the storm again; it is your Father's voice."

"How great he is! I am afraid of him!" said Daisy.

"You may well be afraid to offend him, but only that; for G.o.d is a gentle, loving Father. He feels when the tiniest insect in this stone is hurt; and the same mighty Hand that guides the stars, and roofs over the fires that might burn up our earth,--the same Hand led you through the storm to-night, or, Daisy, you would not have found my cave."

The dame's last words reminded Daisy that she had left her sister alone; and though Maud had surprised her by saying that she need not hurry back, Maud might have changed her mind, and complain of the very thing she asked an hour before.

She flew home, therefore--falling many a time, and wounding her hands with the sharp sticks in her path. Great trees were torn up by the roots, and came crashing down, in the dark, scattering earth and pebbles far and wide; but Daisy walked among them all unharmed, and was not even frightened; for she knew some kind hand must be guiding her, and thought of the Watchman who never sleeps.

Reaching the cabin, she found Maud in a quiet slumber; and, lying down beside her, Daisy was soon dreaming over again all she had seen through the spectacles.

CHAPTER XVIII.

DAISY ALONE.

The sisters lived together comfortably enough in the wood, for the old dame still supplied their wants; and Daisy grew so accustomed to Maud's complaints and reproaches, that she did not mind them so much as at first.

Then it was such a joy when, sometimes, Maud would be pleased and satisfied, and speak a kind word or two, that her sister forgot all the rest.

The fairy had been in the habit, after Susan's death, of taking Maud to the fair sometimes, where she could see the people, and choose handsome gowns for herself, and hear what was going on in the world.

Meantime Daisy would remain at home, cleaning the house and washing Maud's dresses, and baking some nice thing for her to eat when she should come home tired from the fair.

You may think this hard for Daisy; but you are mistaken, this time, for she was never so merry as when working thus alone. There was no one to meddle and complain when she was trying to do her best. Let Maud depart, and all was peace in Daisy's home.