ar hearts," saith _Father_, "there is in God's Word a word for the
smallest need of every one of us, if we will only take the pain to
search and find it there. `They had no rest day neither night,'
[Cranmer's version of Revelations chapter four verse 8]--that is for the
eager, active soul that longs to be up and doing. And `they rest from
their labours,'--that is for the weary heart that is too tired for
rapture."

"Yet doth not that latter class of texts, think you," saith Sir
_Robert_, "refer mainly to the rest of the body in the grave?"

"Well, it may be so," answers _Father_: "yet, look you, the rest of the
grave must be something that _will rest us_."

"What is thy notion, _Aubrey_," saith Aunt _Joyce_, "of the state of the
soul betwixt death and resurrection?"

"My notion, _Joyce_," saith _Father_, "is that _Scripture_ giveth us no
very plain note thereon. I conclude, therefore, that it shall be time
to know when we come to it. This only do I see--that all the passages
which speak thereof as `sleep,' `forgetfulness,' and the like, be in the
Old Testament: and all those--nay, let me correct myself--most of those
which speak thereof as of a condition of conscious bliss, `being with
_Christ_,' and so, are in the New. There I find the matter: and there,
under your good pleasure, will I leave it."

"Well, that should seem," quoth Aunt _Joyce_, "as if the condition of
souls had been altered by the coming of our Lord."

"By His death, rather, as methinks, if so be. It may be so. I dare not
be positive either way."

"Has it never seemed strange to you, _Louvaine_," saith Sir _Robert_,
"how little we be told in God's Word touching all those mysteries
whereon men's minds will ever be busying themselves--to all appearance,
so long as the world lasts? This matter of our talk--the origin of
evil--free-will and sovereign grace--and the like. Why are we told no
more?"

"Why," saith _Father_, with that twinkle in his eyes which means fun, "I
am one of the meaner intelligences of the universe, and I wis not. If
you can find any whither the Angel _Gabriel_, you may ask at him if he
can untie your knots."

"Now, _Aubrey_, that is right what mads me!" breaks in Aunt _Joyce_.
"Sir _Robert_ asks why we be told no more, and thine answer is but to
repeat that we be told no more. Do, man, give a plain answer to a plain
question."

"Nay, now thou aft like old Lawyer _Pearson_?" quoth _Father_. "`I wis
not, Master,'