eth all things, hopeth all things, endureth
all things._

"_'Charity never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall
fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be
knowledge, it shall vanish away._

"_'For we know in part, and we prophesy in part._

"_'But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part
shall be done away.'_"

Her voice rose high and shrill as she read the great verses. Her large
blue eyes shone with ecstasy. Janet looked at her in fear. This was more
than her mother speaking; it was more than human; it was a voice from
beyond the world. Alone, the timid girl would have shrunk from death,
but her mother's inspiration held her.

"_'And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three: but the greatest
of these is charity.'_"

Janet had been listening with such strained attention that the "Amen"
rang out of her loud and involuntary, like an answer to a compelling
Deity. She had clung to this reading as the one thing left to her before
death, and out of her nature thus strained to listen the "Amen" came, as
sped by an inner will. She scarcely knew that she said it.

They rose, and the scrunt of Janet's chair on the floor, when she pushed
it behind her, sent a thrilling shiver through her body, so tense was
her mood. They stood with their hands on their chair backs, and looked
at each other, in a curious palsy of the will. The first step to the
parlour door would commit them to the deed; to take it was to take the
poison, and they paused, feeling its significance. To move was to give
themselves to the irrevocable. When they stirred at length they felt as
if the ultimate crisis had been passed; there could be no return. Mrs.
Gourlay had Janet by the wrist.

She turned and looked at her daughter, and for one fleeting moment she
ceased to be above humanity.

"Janet," she said wistfully, "_I_ have had a heap to thole! Maybe the
Lord Jesus Christ'll no' be owre sair on me."

"O mother!" Janet screamed, yielding to her terror when her mother
weakened. "O mother, I'm feared! I'm feared! O mother, I'm feared!"

"Come!" said her mother; "come!" and drew her by the wrist. They went
into the parlour.

* * * * *

The post was a square-built, bandy-legged little man, with a bristle of
grizzled hair about his twisted mouth, perpetually cocking up an
ill-bred face in the sight of Heaven. Physically and morally he had in
him somethin