that she speaks of is
the girl--the blessed girl--whose goodness is in every one's mouth--_Gra
Gal_ Sullivan. I know it, I feel it."

"Now," said the woman, "I must go; but before I go, I wish to look on
the face of Condy Dalton."

"There's a bit of rush on the shelf there," said Mrs. Dalton to one of
her daughters; "bring it over and light it."

The girl did so, and the strange woman, taking the little taper in her
hand, approached Dalton, and looking with a gaze almost fearfully solemn
and searching into his face.

"You are Condy Dalton?" she asked.

"I am," said he.

"Answer me now," she proceeded, "as if you were in the presence of God
at judgment, are you happy?"

Mrs. Dalton, who felt anxious for many reasons, to relieve her
unfortunate husband from this unexpected and extraordinary catechist,
hastened to reply for him.

"How, honest woman, could a man be happy who is in a state of such
destitution, or who has had such misfortunes as he has had;" and as she
spoke her eyes filled with tears of compassion for her husband.

"Don't break it upon me," said the woman, solemnly, "but let me ax my
question, an' let him give his answer. In God's name and presence, are
you a happy man?"

"I can't speak a lie to that, for I must yet meet my judge--I am not."

"You have one particular thought that makes you unhappy."

"I have one particular thought that makes me unhappy."

"How long has it made you unhappy?"

"For near two-and-twenty years."

"That's enough," she replied; "God's hand is in it all--I must now go.
I have done what I was axed to do; but there's a higher will at work.
Honest woman," she added, addressing Mrs. Dalton, "I wish you and your
childre good night!"

The moment she went they almost ceased to think of her. The pot still
hung on the fire, and little time was lost in preparing a meal of food.

From the moment _Gra Gal_ Sullivan's name was mentioned, the whole
family observed that young Con started and appeared to become all at
once deeply agitated; he walked backwards and forwards--sat down--and
rose up--applied his hands to his forehead--appeared sometimes flushed,
and again pale--and altogether seemed in a state which it was difficult
to understand.

"What is the matter with you, Con?" asked his mother, "you seem
dreadfully uneasy."

"I am ill, mother," he replied--"the fever that was near taking Tom
away, is upon me; I feel that I have it by the pains that's in my head
and the