"I think I'm too happy to be angry," said Matilda, finishing her ice.

And she looked so cool that Norton could not keep hot. He and David took her empty plates away for her; and so ended that day's trouble.

Nevertheless, fruits of it appeared afterwards.

A little while after this Sunday, Norton sickened with the same fever Matilda had had. There followed a long, very quiet time, during which she was much left to herself. Mrs. Laval was in the sick room; for if she was not a skilled nurse, she was a most affectionate mother; and in the cases of both her children, she either did herself or watched over everything that was done. Matilda was not allowed to be with Norton and help, which she would have liked; it was thought that her strength was not sufficiently recovered. So the little girl lived in her room; crept down and up for her meals; was as quiet as a mouse; and endured not a little mischief from Judy's hands. Judy revelled. She was as full of life as of mischief, and she made Matilda her b.u.t.t. The children generally dining together alone, she had a fair field; for David could not interpose to prevent Judy's sly provocations. They were too sly, and too quick and shifting, and too various and unlooked for. Sometimes she patronized Matilda, as a little country girl; sometimes she admonished her, very unnecessarily, in the same character; sometimes Judy took a tone more offensive still and accused her of artful practices to gain Mrs. Laval's favour. David and others were present; but they did not always see what was going on; or if they attempted to put Judy in order, the attempt was too apt to provoke more trouble than it stopped. Matilda bore a good deal of trial, those weeks; for she was naturally a spirited child, ready to resent injuries; and besides that, she was a clever child, quite able to return Judy's sharp speeches. She said very little to them, however, except what was good-humoured. Her cheek flushed now and then; sometimes her little head took its old set on her shoulders, extremely expressive, and equally graceful and unconscious; the boys would laugh, and Judy toss her own head in a different fashion. These things gave Matilda a good deal of work in her own room. She used to hunt out pa.s.sages that spoke of forgiveness and kindness and the management of the tongue and the bridling of anger; and then she used to pray over them, and not once or twice. So Judy never could prevail much with her. However, Matilda wished for many reasons that Norton would get strong and well again and Mrs. Laval be in her old place. As he grew better, she began to be very much in his room; taking care of him, reading or talking to him, and having very nice times planning garden for Briery Bank when they should go home.

That would not be early this year, Norton said he was afraid, because of his school; but at any rate they would run up at the Easter holidays and set things in train.

One day Matilda was coming upstairs, after an uncomfortable lunch with Judy alone. She came slowly, for she was weak yet, thinking that Judy was a very difficult person to get along with. David had not appeared at the meal. Just as Matilda reached the head of the stairs at her own door, he came out of his room.

"Tilly," said he in a choked kind of voice, "come here! I want you."

A very odd way for David to speak, she thought; and looking at him she perceived that he had not his usual calmness and gravity, in face any more than in voice. He was flushed and agitated, and troubled, it seemed to her. Matilda obeyed his call instantly and he led the way into his room and shut the door. Then she waited for him to speak and tell what he wanted of her; but that seemed to be somehow difficult.

David hesitated, struggling with himself, she could see; yet no words came. Matilda was too much in awe of him to speak first. David had been very kind to her lately; but he was older, older even than Norton, and much graver; and she did not know him so well. She waited.

As for David, he could hardly speak, or he had great difficulty in the choice of words. He fidgeted a little, taking one or two turns across the room, flushed and paled again, then faced Matilda and spoke with desperate resolution.

"Tilly, what do you know about--that person--I mean the One you think so much of, and call your Messiah?"

Matilda was extremely astonished. "Do you mean--Jesus?" she asked doubtfully and not a little afraid.

"Yes--yes. What do you know about him?"

Matilda hesitated.

"I know he loves me," she said softly.

"_Loves_ you! How do you know that? how can you know that?"

"Because I love him, David; and I know he loves me. He has said so."

"Said so! I beg your pardon. How has be said so?"

"In a great many places. And in a great many ways, David. He died for me."

"Died!" repeated David again; then controlling his excitement, which was very great, he again asked Matilda's pardon. "What do you mean by saying he died for you? for _you_, or anybody? He was put to death by the Romans, because he set himself up for a king."

"He didn't," said Matilda eagerly; "not in the way the people said. He told Pilate himself that his kingdom was not of this world; and he told the Jews to pay tribute to Caesar. They accused him for envy."

"Anyhow, he was put to death like any other criminal. Why should you say he died _for you?_ Have you any reason?"

"Have you got a Bible here, David?"

"Not your Bible. I have the Scriptures of Moses and the prophets."

"Those are what Jesus said told about him. But just let me run and get my Bible, David; I want to shew you something. I'll be back in one minute."

He made no objection; and Matilda rushed out to her own room, threw off her cloak and hat, dropped down on her knees for one instant to pray that the Lord would teach her what to say to David; then seized her Bible and ran back to him. She was almost as excited now, outwardly, as he seemed; her little fingers trembled as she turned the leaves over.

"See here, David," she said. "That night, the night of the pa.s.sover, you know; the night before he died; he was at supper with the twelve disciples--"

"What twelve disciples?"

"Those who were always with him; they were the apostles afterwards.

Look here. He broke bread and told them to eat it, and said it was his body broken for them; and then a cup of wine; and this is what he said about that. See."

"Read it," said David.

"'This is my blood of the new testament, which is shed for many for the remission of sins.' Testament is the same word as covenant, Mr.

Wharncliffe says."

"Covenant!" cried David.

"Yes. In this other place he says, 'This cup is the new testament or covenant, in my blood, which is shed for you.' That is the new covenant that Jeremiah promised."

"Jeremiah!" cried David again; "what do you know of Jeremiah? Is _that_ in your Bible?"

"Certainly it is. Isaiah and Jeremiah, and all of them."

"But what do you mean about that new covenant? you don't know what you are talking of, Tilly."

"O yes, I do, David. Look here; here is the place in Jeremiah; we had all about this in our lesson last Sunday. Look here, David. 'Behold, the days come, saith the Lord, that I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and with the house of Judah; not according to the covenant that I made with their fathers, in the day that I took them by the hand to bring them out of the land of Egypt; which my covenant they brake, although I was a husband unto them, saith the Lord.

"'But this shall be the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel; After those days, saith the Lord, I will put my law in their inward parts, and write it in their hearts; and will be their G.o.d, and they shall be my people. And they shall teach no more every man his neighbour, and every man his brother, saying, Know the Lord: for they shall all know me, from the least of them unto the greatest of them, saith the Lord: for I will forgive their iniquity, and I will remember their sin no more.'"

Matilda stopped and looked up at David.

"I know all that very well," he replied; "that will be in the days of Messiah."

"Jesus said it was then. He said, 'This cup is the new covenant _in my blood_.'"

"How could that be? what meaning is there in that?"

"Why, David,--don't you see? His blood did it."

"Did what?"

"Why! bought forgiveness for us, so that G.o.d could give us the new covenant. It is a covenant to forgive us and make us holy for Jesus'

sake. Mr. Wharncliffe was explaining it only last Sunday."

"I don't want to hear what Mr. Wharncliffe said. Tell me only what you know."

"Well, David, I know it's all true."

"Tilly, how can you?"

"Why, David,--I know Jesus has taken away my sins; and I think he is writing his laws on my heart."

"But Tilly!" David exclaimed with a sort of anxious impatience, "you don't know what you are talking about. You mean that this--Jesus--was our Messiah."

"Yes," said Matilda. "He said he was."