he said, as she returned. And, opening
the Bible, she read one of Tibbie's favourite chapters, rather slowly
no doubt, but with perfect correctness.

"Weel, lassie, I canna mak heid or tail o' 't."

"I'll tell ye, Tibbie, what the mune aye minds me o'. The face o' God's
like the sun, as ye hae tellt me; for no man cud see him and live."

"That's no sayin', ye ken," interposed Tibbie, "that we canna see him
efter we're deid."

"But the mune," continued Annie, disregarding Tibbie's interruption,
"maun be like the face o' Christ, for it gies licht and ye can luik at
it notwithstandin'. The mune's jist like the sun wi' the ower-muckle
taen oot o' 't. Or like Moses wi' the veil ower's face, ye ken. The
fowk cudna luik at him till he pat the veil on."

"Na, na, lass; that winna do; for ye ken his coontenance was as the sun
shineth in his strenth."

"Ay, but that was efter the resurrection, ye ken. I'm thinkin' there
had been a kin' o' a veil ower his face a' the time he was upo' the
earth; and syne whan he gaed whaur there war only heavenly een to luik
at him, een that could bide it, he took it aff."

"Weel, I wadna wonner. Maybe ye're richt. And gin ye _be_ richt, that
accounts for the Transfiguration. He jist lifted the veil aff o' 'm a
wee, and the glory aneath it lap oot wi' a leme like the lichtnin'. But
that munelicht! I can mak naething o' 't."

"Weel, Tibbie, I canna mak you oot ony mair nor ye can the munelicht.
Whiles ye appear to ken a' thing aboot the licht, an' ither whiles
ye're clean i' the dark."

"Never ye min' me, lass. I s' be i' the licht some day. Noo we'll gang
in to the hoose."

CHAPTER LVI.

Murdoch Malison, the schoolmaster, was appointed to preach in the
parish church the following Sunday. He had never preached there, for he
had been no favourite with Mr Cowie. Now, however, that the good man
was out of the way, they gave him a chance, and he caught at it, though
not without some misgivings. In the school-desk, "he was like a maister
or a pope;" but the pulpit--how would he fill that? Two resolutions he
came to; the first that he would not read his sermon, but _commit_ it
and deliver it as like the extempore utterance of which he was
incapable as might be--a piece of falsehood entirely understood, and
justified by Scotch custom; the second, to take rather more than a hint
from the fashion of preaching now so much in favour amongst the
seceders and missionars: he would be a _