"'I that speak unto thee _am he_.' Then he said himself that he was Messiah?"

"To this woman, to his twelve disciples, and to two or three more."

"Why not to the whole people?"

"Is it likely they would have believed him?"

David pondered.

"They asked him once the direct question--'How long dost thou make us to doubt? If thou be Messiah, tell us plainly.'"

"What did he say?"

"He said, 'I told you, and ye believed not; the works that I do in my Father's name, they bear witness of me.'"

"Then _they_ thought perhaps he was Messiah."

"The people on one or two occasions were so persuaded of it that they wanted to take him by force and make him king."

"And he refused?"

"He refused. You know, he came 'to give his life a ransom for many;'

not to enjoy worldly honour."

"But how then should he save Israel from all their enemies?"

"Who are Israel's enemies? 'He shall redeem Israel from all his _iniquities;_' and when once they turn to the Lord, there will be no other enemies that can work them harm. You know it was always so."

David sighed and the reading went on. But again he started at the fourth chapter of Luke and the words read by the Lord from Isaiah and his appropriation of them. David stopped.

"Here it is again," he said. "'This day is this scripture fulfilled--'

That is plain."

"Nothing could be plainer. But they would not see it."

David paused still, and then said with some difficulty, "I want to know the truth. Because--if he _is_ Messiah,--he is my King!" And a dark gleam, partly of pain, partly of incipient loyalty, crossed his face.

Mr. Richmond's eyes flashed.

"Come on," he said; "let us see whether he is Messiah."

The parables indicating the taking away of their privileges from the Jews and giving them to the Gentiles, were hard reading. David stopped to understand them, and looked very black. When they came to the discourses of Christ with the Jews, David's excitement grew very great, though he controlled himself. And just there came a summons to Mr.

Richmond which it was impossible to pa.s.s by. He was forced to go, and left the two younger ones at the table. For a few minutes they were silent; and then David rose up, pale with intense feeling, and took his book. Matilda looked at him inquiringly.

"I must find it out by myself," he said; and walked to the door.

"David!" cried Matilda, "shall I call you when dinner is ready?"

"No, don't. I don't want dinner. And I can't go with you to look up Norton. Can you do without me?"

Matilda a.s.sured him of that, feeling quite at home in Shadywalk. And as it was about eleven o' clock, she thought to look up Norton would be the best thing she could do.

So she went down the old village street, where every step was full of memories, feeling very glad to see it again. She would have liked to stop and visit several people; but she knew Norton would be impatient for her; and so he was. He was overseeing the uncovering of his bulbs to-day.

"Twelve o' clock, Pink; twelve o' clock! and this is the first I have seen of you since breakfast. What have you been doing?"

"We've been busy, Norton."

"Where's Davy?"

"At the parsonage. He's busy."

"Look at those hyacinths,--up already, all of an inch above ground.

It's well I came to see after them."

"What makes them so yellow, Norton, instead of green?"

"Why because they've been covered up and shaded from the sun. A little longer, and they would have been spoiled."

"How beautiful it would be, Norton, if we had our two new beds planted!

all full of roses and hyacinths."

"Ah, wouldn't it!" repeated Norton. "You see, we were a bit too late about it last fall; or, I'll tell you! it was that sickness kept us away. We'll have 'em next year. What _have_ you and David been doing yonder?"

"Reading"--said Matilda doubtfully.

"Reading what?"

"Mr. Richmond and David were reading together."

"That's jolly!" said Norton. "David and the parson! What's come over Bartholomew? Where's he going to get dinner?"

"He didn't come with me, and I don't think he was coming."

"Let him stay and read, then," said Norton. "If he can afford it, we can. Pink, we'll go and get something presently--as soon as I see all this mulching off."

They managed to employ themselves all the rest of the day; dining at the hotel, overseeing work in the grounds of Briery Bank, roaming about the place and enjoying its spring sweetness; talking over what they thought ought to be done; and making a very nice holiday of it generally. Towards evening Norton was persuaded to return with Matilda to the parsonage; perhaps urged by a little curiosity of his own. David had not been seen, Miss Redwood reported.

Neither did he come when tea-time came; and when sought in his room it was discovered that he was not there. Matilda was very much exercised on this subject; but Mr. Richmond took it quietly. Norton declared it was just like David Bartholomew.

"I don't think it it, Norton," said Matilda; "for he is always polite."

"Except this time," said Norton.

"We'll not except this time, if you please," said Mr. Richmond pleasantly. "Things are different from their seeming, oftentimes."

It was Sat.u.r.day evening, and the minister was busy in his study. The two children kept Miss Redwood company in the dining room. It was a great falling off from last evening, Matilda thought; nevertheless she had a very entertaining talk with Miss Redwood about people and things in Shadywalk; and Norton listened, half amused and half sleepy. Mrs.

Candy had been absent from Shadywalk near all winter; in New York.

"In New York!" exclaimed Matilda. "And I never saw her or Clarissa!"