It seemed as if the last link which bound her
to her youth was broken. But one morning, as her daughter was slowly
driving her through Hallam village, she saw an old man who had been
very pleasantly linked with the by-gone years, and she said, "That
is a very dear friend, I must speak to him, Bessie."
He was a slight old man, with thin hair white as wool falling on his
shoulders, and a face full of calm contemplation. "Mr. North," said
Elizabeth, tremulously, "do you remember me?"
He removed his hat, and looked attentively in the face bending toward
him. Then, with a smile, "Ah, yes, I remember Miss Hallam. God is good
to let me see you again. I am very glad, indeed."
"You must come to the hall with me, if you can; I have a great deal
to say to you."
And thus it happened that after this meeting Bessie frequently stopped
for him in the village, and that gradually he spent more and more time
at the hall. There he always occupied the large room called the
"Chamber of Peace," hallowed by the memory of the apostle of his faith.
One hot August day he had gone to its cool, calm shelter, after
spending an hour with Elizabeth. Their conversation had been in heaven,
and specially of the early dead and blessed, who went in the serenity
of the morning; whose love for God had known no treachery, and who
took the hand of Jesus and followed him with all their heart.
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