he paused, and then came the whisper, "Read it." So
Kirsty read it to her for the last time, the sweet old story that had
comforted the poor, pain-racked woman and upheld her in patience and
fortitude for eighteen weary years of suffering. And when at the end
of the story came those gracious words bearing a world of love and
divine compassion, "And Jesus called her to Him and said unto her,
Woman, thou art loosed from thine infirmity," Kirsty paused. Her
mother always interrupted there, always broke in with a word of
triumph, a renewal of the firm faith that for eighteen years had
forbidden her to ask for relief. But as she waited now there came no
sound, and, looking up, she saw that the Divine Healer had loosed this
other woman from her infirmity and made her straight and beautiful in
His kingdom of happiness.

And so Kirsty, always kind and true-hearted, had been made better and
more womanly by her trial; and although she kept her faithful suitor
waiting for a couple of years more, she yielded at last and the Weaver
received his reward.

As if to be in keeping with the time of life at which the bride and
groom had arrived, the wedding day was set in the autumn; the soft
vaporous October days when the Oro forests were all aflame.

Kirsty had refused to leave her little farm; so Jimmie, well content,
had a fine new frame house built close to her old home; and as soon as
the wedding was over he was to bring his loom from the Glen and they
would begin their new life together.

Kirsty declared that he might bring the loom any day, for there was to
be no nonsense at her wedding; they would drive to the minister's in
the Glen by themselves, and she would be home in time to milk the cows
in the evening.

But when she saw the bitter disappointment a quiet wedding would be to
the prospective groom, she had not the heart to insist. For years
Jimmie had buoyed up his sorely-tried courage by the ecstatic picture
of himself and Kirsty dancing on their wedding night, he the envy of
all the MacDonald boys, she the pattern for all the girls; and though
neither he nor his bride were any longer young, he still cherished his
youthful dream. And then Long Lauchie's girls came over in a body and
demanded a wedding and a fine big dance, and even Big Malcolm's wife
declared it would hardly be right not to have some public recognition
of the fact that there was a wedding among the MacDonalds.

And so, laughing at what she call