In the morning the child was better, but she was very weak, and would need at least a day’s rest and careful nursing before she could go on her journey. The schoolmaster at once said that he had a day to spare—two days for that matter—and could well afford to wait. As the patient was to sit up in the evening, he said he would visit her in her room at a certain hour, and going out with his book, he did not return until that hour arrived. Nell could not help weeping when they were left alone; whereat, and at the sight of her pale face and wasted figure, the simple schoolmaster shed a few tears himself. "It makes me unhappy, even in the midst of all this kindness," said the child, "to think that we should be a burden upon you. How can I ever thank you? If I had not met you so far from home I must have died, and he would have been left alone." "We’ll not talk about dying," said the schoolmaster; "and as to burdens, I have made my fortune since you slept at my cottage." "Indeed!" cried the child joyfully. "Oh yes," returned her friend. "I have been chosen as clerk and schoolmaster to a village a long way from here, and a long way from the old one, as you may suppose, at five-and-thirty pounds a year. Five-and-thirty pounds!" "I am very glad," said the child—"so very, very glad." "I am on my way there now," the schoolmaster went on. "They gave me the stage-coach hire—outside stage-coach hire all the way. Bless you, they grudge me nothing. But as I have plenty of time, I made up my mind to walk. How glad I am to think I did so!" "How glad should we be!" said the child. "Yes, yes," said the schoolmaster, "certainly—that’s very true. But you—where are you going, where are you coming from, what have you been doing since you left me, what had you been doing before? Now, tell me—do tell me. I know very little of the world, but I have a reason for loving you. I have felt since the time you visited me in my home as if my love for the boy who died had been given to you." The kindness of the honest man gave the child a great trust in him. She told him all—that they had no friends or relations; that she had fled with the old man to save him from misery; that she was flying now to save him from himself; and that she sought a home where he would not be tempted again. For some time the schoolmaster sat deep in thought; then he said that Nell and her grandfather should go with him to the village whither he was bound; and that he would try to find them some work by which they could make a living. "We shall be sure to get on," said the schoolmaster; "the cause is too good a one to fail." They soon found that a stage-wagon would stop at the inn the next night to change horses. When the wagon came Nell was placed inside, and in due time it rolled away, the two men walking on beside the driver, and the landlady and all the good folks of the inn shouting out their good wishes and farewells.