ace was red as a
hot peat, and he swayed to and fro like a boat on the Gruting Voe.
There was something no' just right about the man."

That was all she could learn, and she was very unhappy, for she
could imagine no good reason for his departure. In some way or
other he was preparing the blow he meant to deal her; and though it
was the Sabbath, there would be no difficulty in finding men whom he
could influence. And there was also his cousin Matilda Sabiston,
that wicked old woman who had outlived all human passions but hatred.
Against this man and the money and ill-will that would back him she
could do nothing, but she "trusted in God that he would deliver her."

So she said to herself, "Patience"; and she sat down to wait,
shutting her eyes to the outside world, and drawing to a focus all
the strength that was in her. The closed Bible lay on the table
beside her, and occasionally she touched it with her hand. She had
not been able to read it; but there was comfort in seeing the old,
homely-looking book, with its everyday aspect and its pages full of
kindly blessing, and still more comfort in putting herself in
physical contact with its promises. They seemed to be more real. And
as she sat hour after hour, psalms learned years before, and read
many and many a time without apprehension of their meaning, began to
speak to her. She saw the words with her spiritual sight, and they
shone with their own glory. And she obtained what she so sorely
needed:

A little comforting shadow
From the hot sun's fiery glow;
A little rest by the fountain
Where the waters of comfort flow.

When midnight struck she looked at the clock and thanked God. Surely
she was safe for that night; and she turned the key in her door
and went to sleep. And her sleep was that which God giveth to his
beloved when they are to be strengthened for many days--a deep,
dreamless suspense of all thought and feeling.

Yet, heavenly as the sleep had been, the awakening was a shock. And
as the day grew toward noon she was as much troubled by the silence
of events as her husband had been by the silence of her lips. Human
hearts are nests of fear. Her whole soul kept going to the window,
and she said, with the impatience of suspended suffering, "_Now!
now!_ I have no fortitude for to-morrow, but I can bear anything
_now_." Finally she resolved to go to Barbara's, and see Vala, and
hear whatever there was to hear. But as she was putting on