ubting the Lord all this time, as
though He had broken His promise to me! And how patient He has been--
long-suffering and full of compassion. I have been hard on Jacob Holt.
If God had dealt with me as I have in my heart dealt with him!"

The minister did not always know whether he was speaking to him, or to
himself. By and by, when he got calmer, and "better acquainted" with
the thought of the new joy, he told the minister, in broken words, the
story of his love for his son, and the bitterness of his loss, and his
wonder and sympathy grew as he listened.

What depths of woe the old man had sounded! With what agonies of
bitterness and anger which had grown to be hatred almost, as the years
went on, had he struggled. And he had sometimes yielded to the misery
of doubt of God's care. He had thought the struggle vain.

He had never been quite at peace with himself through it all. God had
never left him to an easy conscience, where Jacob Holt was concerned,
even at his quietest time, and when things were at their best with him.
He had never left him to himself, and now the evil spirit was cast out.

"The patience He has had with me. It is wonderful!" he said again and
again. "And now I ask nothing but that He may do His will with me and
mine," he added, as Katie came in.

"I think grannie is no worse, though she is very weak and cannot bear
much," was Katie's gentle caution, lest she should be excited overmuch.

He did not answer her, but turned to Mr Maxwell and repeated his words:

"I ask nothing but that God may do His will with me and mine."

"That is always best," said the minister.

Katie looked from one to the other.

"Come, grandfather," said she.

He went slowly out, touching the door and the walls to steady himself
by, and when he went in to grannie, Katie softly shut the door. There
was no one to tell what was said there between the two. If Mr Fleming
had needed anything utterly to break his heart with loving shame, and
thankfulness, and sorrow, the glad serenity and trust of his dear old
wife would have done it. He put restraint upon himself lest he should
excite her beyond her strength, but she smiled at him.

"Joy seldom does harm, and I am better, though I am but weak and
feckless. I'll soon mend now."

"And are you really better? I could almost find it in my heart to let
you go to Him, nay, I canna say gladly, but God's will be done, whether
you be to stay or go."

"Surely. An