s. Boynton sank farther back into her pillows, and closing her eyes,
gave a long sigh of infinite content. Her voice was so faint that
they had to stoop to catch the words, and Ivory, feeling the strange
benediction that seemed to be passing from his mother's spirit to
theirs, took Rod's hand and knelt beside Waitstill.

The verse of a favorite psalm was running through Lois Boynton's mind,
and in a moment the words came clearly, as she opened her eyes, lifted
her hands, and touched the bowed heads. "Let the house of Aaron now say
that his mercy endureth forever!" she said, slowly and reverently; and
Ivory, with all his heart, responded, "Amen!"

XXXIII. AARON'S ROD

"IVORY! IVORY!"

Ivory stirred in a sleep that had been troubled by too great happiness.
To travel a dreary path alone, a path leading seemingly nowhere, and
then suddenly to have a companion by one's side, the very sight of whom
enchanted the eye, the very touch of whom delighted the senses--what joy
unspeakable! Who could sleep soundly when wakefulness brought a train of
such blissful thoughts?

"Ivory! Ivory!"

He was fully awake now, for he knew his mother's voice. In all the
years, ever thoughtful of his comfort and of the constant strain upon
his strength, Lois had never wakened her son at night.

"Coming, mother, coming!" he said, when he realized she was calling him;
and hastily drawing on some clothing, for the night was bitterly cold,
he came out of his room and saw his mother standing at the foot of the
stairway, with a lighted candle in her hand.

"Can you come down, Ivory? It is a strange hour to call you but I have
something to tell you; something I have been piecing together for weeks;
something I have just clearly remembered."

"If it's something that won't keep till morning, mother, you creep back
into bed and we'll hear it comfortably," he said, coming downstairs
and leading her to her room. "I'll smooth the covers, so; beat up the
pillows,--there, and throw another log on the sitting-room fire. Now,
what's the matter? Couldn't you sleep?"

"All summer long I have been trying to remember something; something
untrue that you have been believing, some falsehood for which I was
responsible. I have pursued and pursued it, but it has always escaped
me. Once it was clear as daylight, for Rodman read me from the Bible a
plain answer to all the questions that tortured me."

"That must have been the night that she fainted," thoug