Miss Priscilla had shut herself up in her room, taking no
notice whatever of any appeals to her to open the door or to speak.

Happy as it was to Joan, to old Nathan it was the saddest Christmas Day
of his life. He was seeking some trace or tidings of the baby's mother;
and his weary feet, made heavy by his heavy heart, trod many a mile that
short wintry day in quest of her. It could be no one else but Rhoda who
had laid the child in the manger. She had never been heard of since Aunt
Priscilla had answered her first and only letter, asking forgiveness, by
a bitter, stern, and terrible command that she must never show her face
again at home, or dare to ask for any help, whatever misery befell her.

But Nathan's search was all in vain. No one had seen her down in the
village, or in the scattered dwellings far and wide upon the mountains.
But more than one had hinted to him that there were places, not far
away, where the cliffs overhung the sea; and as he returned sorrowfully
homewards he could hear the sad moaning and sobbing of the sea following
him through the stillness of the night air.

But sad as the day was to Nathan, it was most miserable of all for Aunt
Priscilla. She had shut out the grey light of the wintry sky from her
room, and sat in gloom and cold, doing nothing. But she could not shut
out her thoughts and memories; she could not make her heart be still.
When she heard through the thin walls the faint little cry of the baby,
she fancied it was Rhoda's cry when she lay a helpless little creature
on her lap. Again and again Joan's young voice reached her ears, lulling
the baby to sleep with the old, familiar words of the Christmas Hymn--

Peace on earth and mercy mild,
God and sinners reconciled.

But there was no peace for her. She paced restlessly up and down her
darkened room, repeating to herself hundreds of times, "God and sinners
reconciled!"

But she could never be reconciled to God, for she had vowed never to be
reconciled to Rhoda, who had sinned against her. She had sworn that
Rhoda should never enter her doors or see her face again. Would God let
her enter into His house, or behold His face? A silent, secret voice
kept whispering in her heart, "So likewise shall My Heavenly Father do
also unto you, if ye from your heart forgive not every one his brother
their trespasses."

Late at night Nathan knocked at her door; but she neither spoke nor
opened it.

"Miss Priscilla," he said, "I can