only, however, to be swept away by the wind, or dissolved into the
light of the sun. These ever-changing, ever-dissolving,
many-coloured vapours were watched by Amanda, who now saw in them
the fleeting and perishable sins of her past life, and again and
again, as one followed the other into oblivion, she would breathe
a sigh of relief, and then allow her eyes to rest on the great
hills that changed not, and which seemed to build her in with
their strength.

From that day forward a great trust came upon her. She ceased to
fret, and never again recalled what had been. Just as the chill of
winter is forgotten in the glory of the springtide, and just as
the child in the posied meadow sports in unconsciousness of the
nipping frost that a few weeks before forced the tears to his
eyes, so Amanda, playful, gladsome, and full of wonder in the new
world in which she found herself, knew no more her old self, nor
remembered any more her old life. The day had broken and the
shadows flown, and God's child was like a young hart on the
mountains of Bether.

* * * * *

'Mother, dun yo' think they'd put my name on th' Church register
agen at Rehoboth?'

'I cornd say, mi Jass, I'm sure. But why doesto ax me?'

'Becose I should like to dee a member of th' owd place. Yo' know I
were a member once. Sin' I've been lyin' here I've had some
strange thoughts. Dun yo' know, I never belonged to God then as I
do naa, for all I were baptized and a communicant. It's queer,
isn't it?'

'Ey, lass; thaa'd better tell that to Mr. Penrose. I know naught
abaat what yo're talkin' on. Bud it does seem, as thaa ses, quare
that thaa belongs more to God naa nor thaa did when thaa went
away.'

'Nay, mother, it's noan exactly as yo' put it. I durnd mean as
God's changed; it's me as has changed, durnd yo' see? I never knew
or loved Him afore, and I know and love Him naa.'

That afternoon, when Mr. Penrose called, Amanda's mother told him
all her daughter had said, and made known to him as the pastor of
the Church the request for readmission and the administration of
the sacrament.

Mr. Penrose, however, shook his head. As far as he was concerned,
no one would have been more willing. But the deacons ruled his
Church, and many of them were hard and exacting men--men with the
eye and heart of Simon of old, who, while they would welcome
Christ to meat, would put the ban upon 'the woman who was a
sinner.' Nor dared Mr. Pe