go now."

Elizabeth put the folded paper in her father's letter with the money and
gave it to him.

"I will go too," said Jacob, rising.

"Had you better?"

Both Elizabeth and Betsey spoke these words with a little excitement.
He turned a strange look from one to the other. Whether it was of pain
or anger, neither knew, and he went out with the minister. Elizabeth
watching, saw them turn into the path that led a near way to the North
Gore road.

"Oh, Betsey! I hope we have done right. God comfort the poor father by
these words," cried Elizabeth, with a sudden rush of tears.

"Amen!" said Betsey, solemnly.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

FORGIVENESS.

The longed-for dawn came to Katie with a sudden chill and sinking of the
heart that felt for a minute like the utter failure of bodily strength.
When she put the lamp out, and put aside the curtain so that the
daylight fell on the two grey old faces lying on the same pillow, her
heart beat hard with sudden fear.

How wan and sunken and spent they looked! What if they were both to
die? The little gleam of red that had now and then, through all her
illness, showed itself on grannie's cheeks was quite gone now, and she
would never be whiter, Katie thought, as she bent down to catch the
sound of her breath coming and going so faintly. The two wrinkled,
toil-worn hands still clasped each other in sleep.

"They should go together," said Katie, with a sob, "but oh! not yet."

She was not experienced enough to know whether this motionless sleep, so
different from the fitful, broken slumbers of the last few weeks, was a
hopeful sign or not; if her strength could be kept up, the doctor had
said, and so had Miss Betsey--and perhaps she ought to wake her and give
her something. As she stood looking at her, her grandfather opened his
eyes.

"Grannie's better, I think," said she, with a quick impulse to give him
comfort. "She has been sleeping quietly, and her hand is cool and
moist. If you'll bide still beside her, I'll go and get a drop of warm
milk from Brownie, to be ready when she wakes."

If she had stayed a minute longer she must have cried at the sight of
the old man's face as he raised himself up and bent over that other face
so white and still. She did cry a little when she went out, and
shivered in the chill of the September morning, but she did not linger
over her task. When she came in she found her grandfather risen, and
standing by the bed. Her g