' What else can it mean but that he is living now, and will
never die again?"
Tony made no answer. He sat with his sharp, unboyish face gazing intently
into the fire; for by this time autumn had set in, and the old man was
chilly of an evening. A very uncertain, dim idea was dawning upon him
that this master and friend of old Oliver's was a being very different
from an ordinary man, however great and rich he might be. He had grown to
love the thought of him, and to listen attentively to the book which told
the manner of life he led; but it was a chill to find out that he could
not look into his face, and hear his voice, as he could Oliver's. His
heart was heavy, and very sad.
"I s'pose I can't see him, then," he murmured to himself, at last.
"Not exactly like other folks," said Oliver. "I think sometimes that
perhaps there's a little darkness of the grave where he was buried about
him still. But he sees us, and hears us. He himself says, 'Behold, I am
with you always.' I don't know whatever I should do, even with my little
love here, if I wasn't sure Jesus was with me as well."
"I'll tell you what I'll do," said Tony, after another pause.
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