"Yes, it was a dream, but do you think a dream is nothing at all? I
think, if it is a good dream, it must be God's. For you know every good
as well as every perfect gift is from the father of lights! He made the
thing that dreams and the things that set it dreaming; so he must be the
master of the dreams--at least when he pleases--and surely always of
those who mind him!--The father of lights!" he repeated; "what a
beautiful name! The father of all the bright things in the world!
Hester's eyes, and your teeth, majie! and all the shines of the fire on
the things in the room! and the sun and the far-away stars that I shall
know more about by and by! and all the glad things that come and go in
my mind, as I lie here and you are sitting quiet in your chair,
majie!--and sometimes at night, oh, so many! when you think I am
sleeping! Oh, I will love him, and be afraid of nothing! I know he is in
it all, and the dark is only the box he keeps his bright things in!
"Oh, he is such a good father of lights! Do you know, majie, I used to
think he came and talked to me in the window-seat when I was a child!
What if he really did, and I should be going to be made sure that he
did--up there, I mean, you know--I don't know where, but it's where
Jesus went when he went back to his papa! Oh, how happy Jesus must have
been when he got back to his papa!"
Here he began to cough, and could not talk more; but the major did not
blame himself that he had not found the heart to stop him, though he
knew it was not what is called _good_ for him: the child when moved
to talk must be happier talking, and what if he died a few minutes
sooner for it!--was born again rather! thought the major to himself--and
almost added, "I would that my time were come!" For the child's and the
soldier's souls had got nearer to each other, than were yet any two
souls in that house in absolute love.
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