iritually between them,
so that at last, worn out with the mental and heart struggle, he
submitted to the fatality he could not alter.

"I will go the right road," he said, "however cruel that road may
be. Then death may give me back to God a miserable man, but not a
guilty one."

And he did not comprehend that, in thus preferring an unseen duty
because it was right to a seen pleasure because it was pleasant, he
was consummating that sublime act of faith whose cry of victory is,
"Thy will be done."

Nanna did not suffer so much. In the first place, the pale, sad,
almost despairing woman was glad and dared, in her despair, because
the man she loved durst not sin, even for her. In the second, her
battle was practically over. She had been in the van of it for
months, and had come gradually to that state of submission which
fears to resist, lest resistance might be found to be fighting
against God. While David was yet in an agony of struggle with
his love and his desires, his tender conscience and his dread of
offending the Deity, Nanna had washed away her tears, and was
strengthening her heart by saying continually, as the glancing
needles glided to and fro:

My God and Father, while I stray
Far from my home, on life's rough way,
Oh, teach me from my heart to say,
"Thy will be done!"

For some dauntless, primitive confidence in the love of the Maker of
men is older than any creed. And there were yet hours when Nanna's
soul outleaped its mortal shadow and had mystic flashes, native
and sweet, beyond the reach of will and endeavor--intimations of
serenities and compensations which would be neither small nor long
delayed.

X

IN THE FOURTH WATCH

Holding despair at bay, David quickly made his preparations for an
extended absence. He hired his boat and lines to Groat's sons,
and on the morning of the second day, after bidding Nanna farewell,
he went to Minister Campbell's to complete his arrangements. The
minister was writing his sermon, and he was not pleased at the
interruption; but when he saw David's face, the shadow of annoyance
on his own passed away like a thought. He dropped his pen, and
turned in his chair so as to see the young man fairly, and then
he asked:

"What is wrong, David?"

"I am all at sea, minister, drifting--drifting--"

"Where's your anchor, David? Can't you steady yourself on God? Can't
you make harbor someway?"

David shook his head sadly.

"Then up