el, and half kneeling, he threw one arm round
the old man, "say that you forgive me. I looked for you everywhere on
Monday, but you could not be found."

"Did you think, John, that I . . . my will was to do you an injury
or . . . vex your soul? Many trials in my life . . . all God's
will . . . but this hardest . . . when I lost you . . . nothing left
here . . . but you . . .--my breath is bad, a little chill--. . .
understand. . . ."

"I always did, and I never respected you more; it was my foolish pride
that made me call you Doctor Saunderson in the study; but my love was
the same, and now you will let me stay and wait on you."

The old man smiled sadly, and laid his hand on his boy's head.

"I cannot let you. . . . Go, John, my son."

"Go and leave you, Rabbi!" Carmichael tried to laugh. "Not till you
are ready to appear at the Presbytery again. We 'll send Barbara away
for a holiday, and Sarah will take her place,--you remember that
cream,--and we shall have a royal time, a meal every four hours, Rabbi,
and the Fathers in between," and Carmichael, springing to his feet and
turning round to hide his tears, came face to face with Miss Carnegie,
who had been unable to escape from the room.

"I happened to call"--Kate was quite calm--"and found Doctor Saunderson
in bed; so I stayed till some friend should come; you must have met the
messenger I sent for you."

"Yes, a mile from the manse; I was on my way . . . Janet said . . .
but I . . . did not remember anything when I saw the Rabbi."

"Will you take a little milk again . . . Rabbi?" and at her bidding and
the name he made a brave effort to swallow, but he was plainly sinking.

"No more," he whispered; "thank you . . . for service . . . to a lonely
man; may God bless you . . . both. . . ." He signed for her hand,
which he kept to the end.

"Satisfied . . . read, John . . . the woman from coasts of--of--"

"I know, Rabbi," and kneeling on the other side of the bed, he read the
story slowly of a Tyrian woman's faith.

"It is not meet to take the children's meat and cast it to dogs."

"Dogs"--they heard the Rabbi appropriate his name--"outside . . . the
covenant."

"And she said, Truth, Lord, yet the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall
from their master's table."

"Lord, I believe . . . help Thou mine . . . unbelief."

He then fell into an agony of soul, during which Carmichael could hear:
"Though . . . He slay . . . me . . . yet will I trust . .