ws, tells him for whom she prays. "Make me
worthy, oh, God," he cries, his heart melted within him. Again he turns
to the door, and this time he falters not, but knocks. In a moment it is
opened.

"Guid evenin' sir," said the woman's voice. "I canna see ye for the
dark; is it some one I ken?" for wayfarers often sought guidance at her
door.

"No, I fear you do not know me," the man responded, "and I crave your
pardon for thus disturbing you. I have travelled far."

"Will ye come in? Or is there something I can do?"

"No, thank you," said the man; "I have travelled far and am thirsty. I
seek but a draught of water, and I shall go on my way."

"I'll sune gie ye that," replied the woman's cheery voice, "but what's
here is mebbe raither warm. Bide ye here till I rin doon to the spring."

The sweet face gleamed in the candle-light as she turned within, picking
up a light plaid shawl, so strong is habit, which she threw across her
shoulders. The tall gracious form was gone a moment, one darksome
moment, returning instantly, a pitcher in her hand. Down the steps she
tripped, and out into the night, her white gown mingling with the
darkness.

Michael Blake stealthily followed her, his heart in wild tumult again.
Her pace was swift and he found it difficult to keep the path. But again
he saw the flutter of white before him, and he knew that it was Janet,
none other, the same whom he had held so close in other days. He ran a
little, panting as he ran, his thirst a torment now--for the chase was
of the soul. He is not far from her.

"Janet," he cried.

She stopped and stood still, as a deer stops when it hears the hunter's
voice.

He was closer now, and again he cried: "Janet, oh, Janet, wait for me."

Her pitcher was thrown upon the sward and she came back a little way,
eye and heart and bosom calling to each other through the storm.

"Wha's callin' me?" she cried, her voice bleating like a lamb's.

"Oh, Janet, you know who's calling you--I have called you long," and
holy passion burned in the voice that spoke, leaped from the face that
came closer, still closer, to her own.

The white figure swayed in the darkness. Then the night glowed about her
like the noon, and the strong arms held her close, and time and sorrow
and God all gave her up ungrudgingly to the bliss they had planned
together; for in secret had they bedecked her as a bride adorned for her
husband.

* * * * *

It