An expression of
loving concern overspread Nellie's face as she assisted him on with his
storm coat, and procured his cap, mittens and overshoes. But no word of
remonstrance came from her lips, no urging him to put off his visit until
the morning. From a child she had been accustomed to these sudden calls to
the side of departing parishioners, to read the Word of life and at times
to administer the Holy Communion.
Her father's step was slow as of one much wearied, though his voice was
cheery and strong as he bade his daughter good-bye, seized the small
lantern she had lighted for him, and stepped out into the cold night on
his mission of love.
Chapter IV
The Warder of the Night
After her father's departure, Nellie sat before the fire engaged upon some
needlework. Occasionally her hands rested in her lap, while she gazed
thoughtfully into the bright blaze. The soft light from the shaded lamp
fell athwart her wealth of dark-brown hair and fair face. Her long lashes
drooped as she leaned back in an easy-chair, and let her mind wander to
the days when she and Stephen played together as happy children.
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