our bodies, and
their help is swift and sure. Be patient with Ian. That is what I
say."

"But why that prayer? I never heard it before."

"How little thou knowest of what thou hast heard before! Two hundred
years ago, all sorrowful, unhappy women went to Mary with their
troubles."

"They should not have done so. They could have gone to Christ."

"They thought Mary had suffered just what they were suffering, and
they thought that Christ had never known any of the griefs that break
a woman's heart. Mary knew them, had felt them, had wept and prayed
over them. When my little lad Eric died, I thought of Mary. My family
have only been one hundred years Protestants. All of them must have
loved thee well enough to come and pray for thee. Thou had a great
honour, as well as a great comfort."

"At any rate I did no wrong! I am glad, Mother."

"Wrong! Thou wilt see the Bishop today. Ask him. He will tell thee
that the English Church and the English women gave up very reluctantly
their homage to Mary. Are not their grand churches called after Peter
and Paul and other male saints? Dost thou think that Christ loved
Peter and Paul more than his mother? I know better. Please God thou
wilt know better some day."

"Churches are often called after Mary, as well as the saints."

"Not in Scotland."

"There is one in Glasgow. Vedder told me he used to hear Bishop Hedley
preach there."

"It is an Episcopal Church. Ask him about thy dream. No, I mean thy
soul's experience."

"Thou said _dream_, Mother. It was not a dream. I saw no one. I only
heard a voice. It is what we see in dreams that is important."

"Now wilt thou come to thy breakfast?"

"Is _he_ downstairs yet?"

"I will go and call him."

Rahal, however, came to the table alone. She said, "Ian asked that he
might lie still and sleep an hour or two. He has not slept all night
long, I think," she added. "His voice sounded full of trouble."

So the two women ate their breakfast alone for Ragnor did not return
in time to join them. And Rahal's hopefulness left her, and she was
silent and her face had a grey, fearful expression that Thora could
not help noticing. "You look ill, Mother!" she said, "and you were
looking so well when we came downstairs. What is it?"

"I know not. I feel as if I was going into a black cloud. I wish that
thy father would come home. He is in trouble. I wonder then what is
the matter!"

In about an hour they saw Ragnor and the Bishop com