f in this way for more than five minutes,
giving a low moan with every forward movement of her body, when she
suddenly felt a hand placed gently on hers, and a sweet treble voice
said to her, "Dear sister, the Lord has sent me to see if I can be a
comfort to you."

Lisbeth paused, in a listening attitude, without removing her apron from
her face. The voice was strange to her. Could it be her sister's spirit
come back to her from the dead after all those years? She trembled and
dared not look.

Dinah, believing that this pause of wonder was in itself a relief for
the sorrowing woman, said no more just yet, but quietly took off her
bonnet, and then, motioning silence to Seth, who, on hearing her voice,
had come in with a beating heart, laid one hand on the back of Lisbeth's
chair and leaned over her, that she might be aware of a friendly
presence.

Slowly Lisbeth drew down her apron, and timidly she opened her dim
dark eyes. She saw nothing at first but a face--a pure, pale face, with
loving grey eyes, and it was quite unknown to her. Her wonder increased;
perhaps it WAS an angel. But in the same instant Dinah had laid her hand
on Lisbeth's again, and the old woman looked down at it. It was a much
smaller hand than her own, but it was not white and delicate, for Dinah
had never worn a glove in her life, and her hand bore the traces of
labour from her childhood upwards. Lisbeth looked earnestly at the hand
for a moment, and then, fixing her eyes again on Dinah's face, said,
with something of restored courage, but in a tone of surprise, "Why,
ye're a workin' woman!"

"Yes, I am Dinah Morris, and I work in the cotton-mill when I am at
home."

"Ah!" said Lisbeth slowly, still wondering; "ye comed in so light, like
the shadow on the wall, an' spoke i' my ear, as I thought ye might be a
sperrit. Ye've got a'most the face o' one as is a-sittin' on the grave
i' Adam's new Bible."

"I come from the Hall Farm now. You know Mrs. Poyser--she's my aunt, and
she has heard of your great affliction, and is very sorry; and I'm come
to see if I can be any help to you in your trouble; for I know your sons
Adam and Seth, and I know you have no daughter; and when the clergyman
told me how the hand of God was heavy upon you, my heart went out
towards you, and I felt a command to come and be to you in the place of
a daughter in this grief, if you will let me."

"Ah! I know who y' are now; y' are a Methody, like Seth; he's tould
me on