was long after, how long may not be told, for God would let no angel
mark the time; but the dark still was brooding, and the trees whispering
still, when he said: "To-morrow, Janet--all the years have made us
ready--yet not to-morrow, for it is to-day--to-day, please God."

She came closer, closer to him still, for hers had been an unsheltered
life, and the warmth was strangely sweet.

"Let us go to the spring, dear heart. Let us be children again."
Together they went on, these pilgrims of the night. While they were
going the day began to break. "The night is far spent," he heard her
whisper joyously.

They knelt together, nor thought it strange--for the youthful heart of
love was theirs again; and they drank from the unsleeping spring,
smiling back at them as their lips kissed its face together. The same
spring, the same lips--but purer both!

And as they stooped, two faces from the bosom of the water rose again to
meet them. Each of the lovers saw but one, for each saw the other's
face. And lo! each was the face of happy youth, the light of love
within its eyes, unchanged by years, except for a graver innocence. But
each saw the face that had looked up and smiled in the years so long
gone by.

The scientist and the philosopher and the deeply-learned in nature's
laws will read of this with generous disdain; but they forget that this
spring had its charter right from God, and was fed from other fountains
farther up the hill. Besides, optics is God's own science--and this was
the morning light.

XXXI

_LOVE'S TRIUMPH OVER ALL_

All things were in readiness, and the people of St. Cuthbert's were
awaiting the Sabbath day with eager souls. For it was the Sabbath of the
sacrament, dispensed but twice a year, according to the custom of their
fathers. I myself looked forward to this communion with a kindling
heart, for I knew its healing grace; and this was the first dispensation
since the shadow of that ordination day had fallen on our church's life.

The morning came, radiant in its robe of early spring, and we knew that
a great multitude would throng St. Cuthbert's. For the aged and long
imprisoned, denied the regular services of the kirk, would yet venture
forth to show the Lord's death once again, some to drink that cup no
more till they should drink it new in their Father's kingdom.

Down the aisle would they come, leaning heavily upon the staff--but they
knew their accustomed places, the places which