"Do you think God has been with you?" said he, as he looked kindly at him. Ovind sobbed still, but not so violently, the tears ran more quietly, but he dare not look at him who spoke, nor reply. "This, Ovind, has been a deserved reward; you have not read from love to religion, nor your parents, but you have read from vanity." There was silence in the room between each time of the schoolmaster's speaking, and Ovind felt his glance to be resting upon him, and grew softened and humbled under it. "With such angry feelings in your heart, you could not have stood forth to have made a compact with your God, could you Ovind?" "No," he stammered, as well as he could. "And if you stood there conceitedly flattering yourself that you were Number One, would it not be wrong?" "Yes," he whispered, and his mouth quivered. "You are still attached to me, Ovind?" "Yes." He looked up for the first time. "Then I must tell you it was I who had your number placed low down; because I care for you so much, Ovind." The old schoolmaster looked at him, blinked a few times, and the tears ran quickly down. "You have not anything against me for it?" "No." He looked up brightly though his voice trembled. "My dear child, I will watch over you as long as I live." He waited for him till he had gathered his books together, and then said he would go home with him. They went slowly along: at first Ovind was silent, battling with himself, but by degrees he overcame. He was convinced that that which had come to pass was the best that could have happened, and, before he reached home, this belief was so strong, that he thanked God, and told the schoolmaster so. "Yes, now we shall hope to attain to something in life," said the schoolmaster, "better than running after blind men and numbers. What do you say to the Training School?" "Yes, I should like to go there." "You mean the Agricultural School?" "Yes." "That is certainly the best; it gives other prospects than those of a schoolmaster." "But how can I get there? I do so wish it, but I have no means." "Be industrious and good, and the means will be found." Ovind was quite overwhelmed with gratitude. He felt the kindling in the eye, the lightheartedness, the endless fire of love, that comes when we experience the unexpected kindness of our fellow-men. The whole future presents itself for a moment, with that sort of feeling one has when walking in fresh mountain air, of being borne along rather than of walking. When they came home, both the parents were in the sitting-room, quietly waiting there, though it was the busy time of the day. The schoolmaster entered first; Ovind after; both were smiling. "Now?" said the father, laying aside a prayer-book, where he had just been reading a catechumen's prayer. The mother was standing by the fire-place; she smiled, but did not say anything; her hands trembled, and she evidently expected good news though she did not wish to betray herself.