erature. He had been reading
Calvin's _Commentary on the Psalms_, in Latin, and it still lay open at
the 88th, the saddest of all songs in the Psalter; but as he grew
weaker the heavy folio had slid forward, and he seemed to be feeling
for it. Although Kate spoke to him by name, he did not know any one
was in the room. "Lord, why castest Thou off my soul? . . . I suffer
Thy terror, I am distracted . . . fierce wrath goeth over me . . .
lover and friend hast Thou put far from me . . . friend far from me."

His head fell on his breast, his breath was short and rapid, and he
coughed every few seconds.

"My friend far from me . . ."

At the sorrow in his voice, and the thing which he said, the tears came
to Kate's eyes, and she went forward and spoke to him very gently. "Do
you know me, Dr. Saunderson, Miss Carnegie?"

"Not Saunderson . . . Magor Missabib."

"Rabbi, Rabbi"--so much she knew; and now Kate stroked the bent white
head. "Your friend, Mister Carmichael . . ."

"Yes, yes"--he now looked up, and spoke eagerly--"John Carmichael, of
Drumtochty . . . my friend in my old age . . . and others . . . my
boys . . . but John has left me . . . he would not speak to me . . . I
am alone now . . . he did not understand . . . mine acquaintance into
darkness . . . here we see in a glass darkly . . ." (he turned aside to
expound the Greek word for darkly), "but some day . . . face to face."
And twice he said it, with an indescribable sweetness, "face to face."

Kate hurriedly removed the books from the bed, and wrapt round his
shoulders the old grey plaid that had eked out his covering at night,
and then she went downstairs.

"Bring," she said to Barbara, "hot water, soap, towels, and a sponge to
Doctor Saunderson's bedroom, immediately."

"And gin a' dinna?" inquired Barbara aggressively.

"I 'll shoot you where you stand."

Barbara shows to her cronies how Miss Carnegie drew a pistol from her
pocket at this point and held it to her head, and how at every turn the
pistol was again in evidence; sometimes a dagger is thrown in, but that
is only late in the evening when Barbara is under the influence of
tonics. Kate herself admits that if she had had her little revolver
with her she might have been tempted to outline the housekeeper's face
on the wall, and she still thinks her threat an inspiration.

"Now," said Kate, when Barbara had brought her commands in with
incredible celerity, "bring up some fresh milk