Her eyes looked up into his, and her simple nature was so unconscious
of the true dangers and perils of this world, that his very heart was
touched with compassion, and he leagued himself with the child's good
angel to defend her against her enemies.

And Nan took fast hold of the doctor's hand as they went to the study.
This was the only room in the house which she had seen before; and was
so much larger and pleasanter than any she knew elsewhere that she
took great delight in it. It was a rough place now, the doctor
thought, but always very comfortable, and he laid himself down on the
great sofa with a book in his hand, though after a few minutes he grew
sleepy and only opened his eyes once to see that Nan was perched in
the largest chair with her small hands folded, and her feet very far
from the floor. "You may run out to see Marilla, or go about the house
anywhere you like; or there are some picture-papers on the table," the
doctor said drowsily, and the visitor slipped down from her throne and
went softly away.

She had thought the study a very noble room until she had seen the
dining-room, but now she wished for another look at the pictures there
and the queer clock, and the strange, grand things on the sideboard.
The old-fashioned comfort of the house was perfect splendor to the
child, and she went about on tiptoe up stairs and down, looking in at
the open doors, while she lingered wistfully before the closed ones.
She wondered at the great bedsteads with their high posts and dimity
hangings, and at the carpets, and the worthy Marilla watched her for a
moment as she stood on the threshold of the doctor's own room. The
child's quick ear caught the rustle of the housekeeper's Sunday gown;
she whispered with shining eyes that she thought the house was
beautiful. Did Marilla live here all the time?