e, and I wouldn't! She
laid her down, and got what she wanted herself, and when she went to
take the child again, the absurd little thing was--was--gone--dead, I
mean gone dead, never to cry any more! There it lay motionless, like a
lump of white clay. She looked at me--and never--in this world--smiled
again!--nor cried either--all I could do to make her!"

The wretched man burst into tears, and the heart of Donal gave a leap
for joy. Common as tears are, fall as they may for the foolishest
things, they may yet be such as to cause joy in paradise. The man
himself may not know why he weeps, and his tears yet indicate his
turning on his road. The earl was as far from a good man as man well
could be; there were millions of spiritual miles betwixt him and the
image of God; he had wept it was hard to say at what--not at his own
cruelty, not at his wife's suffering, not in pity of the little soul
that went away at last out of no human embrace; himself least of all
could have told why he wept; yet was that weeping some sign of contact
between his human soul and the great human soul of God; it was the
beginning of a possible communion with the Father of all! Surely God
saw this, and knew the heart he had made--saw the flax smoking yet! He
who will not let us out until we have paid the uttermost farthing,
rejoices over the offer of the first golden grain.

Donal dropped on his knees and prayed:--

"O Father of us all!" he said, "in whose hands are these unruly hearts
of ours, we cannot manage ourselves; we ruin our own selves; but in
thee is our help found!"

Prayer went from him; he rose from his knees.

"Go on; go on; don't stop!" cried the earl. "He may hear you--who can
tell!"

Donal went down on his knees again.

"O God!" he said, "thou knowest us, whether we speak to thee or not;
take from this man his hardness of heart. Make him love thee."

There he stopped again. He could say no more.

"I can't pray, my lord," he said, rising. "I don't know why. It seems
as if nothing I said meant anything. I will pray for you when I am
alone."

"Are there so many devils about me that an honest fellow can't pray in
my company?" cried the earl. "I will pray myself, in spite of the whole
swarm of them, big and little!--O God, save me! I don't want to be
damned. I will be good if thou wilt make me. I don't care about it
myself, but thou canst do as thou pleasest. It would be a fine thing if
a rascal like me were to escape the