Joan, and kissed them both with a strange solemnity, as if she
was making a vow to God. Then she lighted a candle, and bidding Joan
come as quickly as she could, she went away again; and in a few minutes
Joan followed her, carefully carrying the baby in her arms.

There was a pale, sunken face resting on Aunt Priscilla's pillow, and
thin, wasted hands lying on the counterpane. The eyelids were fast
closed, and the lips clenched. And yet it was Rhoda's face that Joan
saw, and she called to her loudly and joyfully.

"See, Rhoda," she cried, "I found the little baby in the manger on
Christmas morning!"

But Rhoda neither saw nor heard. Aunt Priscilla took the baby from Joan
and laid it on Rhoda's bosom, and placed her hand tenderly on Rhoda's
head. Then it seemed to her that a flicker of life moved over her set
and death-like face.

"Sing, Joan, sing," said Aunt Priscilla, earnestly; and Joan, with her
hands clasped, and her eyes fastened upon Rhoda's dear face, sang in a
loud, clear voice--

Hark! the herald angels sing!

As she came to the last line, "God and sinners reconciled," Rhoda's
lips moved, as if she was repeating the words to herself, and her white
eyelids slowly opened.

"Not to me!" she murmured.

"Oh! yes, yes, my darling!" cried Aunt Priscilla, falling on her
knees--"you and me are reconciled, and God 'ill be reconciled to us
both. We are both sinners; but He'll forgive both you and me."

"And my baby," whispered Rhoda again, slowly moving one of her wasted
arms to put it round him, and gazing mournfully into her aunt's face.

"I'll take care of him," she answered; "God has sent him and Joan to me,
and I'll take care of them for His sake. I took care of you for my own
sake, Rhoda."

There was a faint smile on Rhoda's face; and her eyelids closed again,
as if she was too weak to keep them open longer. By-and-by there came
into the quiet room the sound of distant voices, and Aunt Priscilla
crept noiselessly downstairs and across the fold to the gate, to tell
Nathan what had happened and to bring them all into the house quietly.

That New Year's Day was as strangely happy a day to Joan as the
Christmas Day before it had been. She never left the room where Rhoda
was lying; for Rhoda could not bear her to go out of sight, and only
seemed content while she could watch her nursing the baby, in her
old-fashioned, motherly manner. As Joan sat on a low rocking-chair,
lulling him to sleep with snatche