cumstance had conquered; and there was no hope from mortal
endeavour, or help from mortal creature to be had. But the eyes
looked onward and upward to the "Hills from whence cometh our help."
And though the parted lips seemed ready to quiver with agony, yet
the expression of the whole face, owing to these strange, stony,
and yet spiritual eyes, was high and consoling. If mortal gaze had
never sought its meaning before, in the deep shadow where it had
been placed long centuries ago, yet Ruth's did now. Who could have
imagined such a look? Who could have witnessed--perhaps felt--such
infinite sorrow, and yet dared to lift it up by Faith into a peace
so pure? Or was it a mere conception? If so, what a soul the unknown
carver must have had! for creator and handicraftsman must have been
one; no two minds could have been in such perfect harmony. Whatever
it was--however it came there--imaginer, carver, sufferer, all
were long passed away. Human art was ended--human life done--human
suffering over; but this remained; it stilled Ruth's beating heart
to look on it. She grew still enough to hear words which have come
to many in their time of need, and awed them in the presence of the
extremest suffering that the hushed world has ever heard of.

The second lesson for the morning of the 25th of September is the
26th chapter of St Matthew's Gospel.

And when they prayed again, Ruth's tongue was unloosed, and she also
could pray, in His name, who underwent the agony in the garden.

As they came out of church, there was a little pause and gathering at
the door. It had begun to rain; those who had umbrellas were putting
them up; those who had not were regretting, and wondering how long
it would last. Standing for a moment, impeded by the people who were
thus collected under the porch, Ruth heard a voice close to her say,
very low, but very distinctly,

"I have much to say to you--much to explain. I entreat you to give me
the opportunity."

Ruth did not reply. She would not acknowledge that she heard; but
she trembled nevertheless, for the well-remembered voice was low and
soft, and had yet its power to thrill. She earnestly desired to know
why and how he had left her. It appeared to her as if that knowledge
could alone give her a relief from the restless wondering that
distracted her mind, and that one explanation could do no harm.

"_No!_" the higher spirit made answer; "_it must not be._"

Ruth and the girls had each an umbre