ld were born we sud ne'er forgive aarsels.'

'Thaa'rt mebbe reet, lad. It'll pleaz her to know, and hoo's bin a
good mother to thee.'

'Yi. Hoo's often said as if hoo could nobbud be a gron'mother
hoo'd say, as owd Simeon said, "Mine een hev sin Thy salvation."'

'Well, we'll go up and see her when th' chapel loses to-morrow
afternoon. Put that leet aat, lad; it's time we closed aar een.'

Matt turned down the lamp, and shot the bolt of his cottage door,
and followed his wife up the worn stone stairway to the room
above, to rest and await the dawning of the Sabbath.

That night, as the moonbeams fell in silver shafts through the
little window, and filled the chamber with a haze of subdued
light, a mystic presence, unseen, yet felt, filled all with its
glory. The old four-poster rested like an ark in a holy of
holies, its carved posts of oak gleaming as the faces of watching
angels on those whose weary limbs were stretched thereon. The
rugged features of Matt were touched into grand relief, his hair
and beard dark on the snowy pillow and coverlet on which they
lay. On his strong, outstretched arm reposed she whom he so
dearly, and now so proudly, loved, her large, lustrous eyes
looking out into the sheeted night, her pearly teeth gleaming
through her half-opened lips, from which came and went her breath
in the regular rhythm and sweetness of perfect health. Long after
her husband slept she lay awake, silently singing her own
'Magnificat'--not in Mary's words, it is true, but with Mary's
music and with Mary's heart.

And then she slept--and the moonbeams paled before the sunrise,
and the morning air stirred the foliage of the trees that kissed
the window-panes, and little birds came and sang their matins, and
another of God's Sabbaths spread its gold and glory over the hills
of Rehoboth.

II.

HOW DEBORAH HEARD THE NEWS.

It was Sabbath on the moors--on the moors where it was always
Sabbath.

Old Mr. Morell used to say, 'For rest, commend me to these eternal
hills;' and so Matt Heap thought as he threw open his chamber
casement and looked on their outline in the light of morning
glory. Their majesty and strength were so passionless, their
repose so undisturbed. How often he wondered to himself why they
always slept--not the sleep of weariness, but of strength! And how
often, when vexed and jaded, had he shared their calm as his eyes
rested on them, or as his feet sought their solitudes! How they
stir