lous lament over this thing and that which had gone wrong in
the mill, the thought came home to him that he was failing fast, and
that the end could not be very far away, and the pain that smote him was
real and sharp. A sense of loss such as had never touched him, though
he had long known that his days were numbered, made him sick for the
moment, and left a weight of despondency on him that he could not shake
off. He spoke soothingly to him, and walked with him over the mill,
telling him of changes that might be made, and asking him questions till
he grew cheerful again, and more like his usual self; then taking
possession of Silas Bean's sleigh that was "hitched" at the mill-door,
he proposed to drive him home, because the March sun had melted the
new-fallen snow, leaving the street both slippery and wet, as he took
care to explain, so that he need not suspect that he was more careful
than usual about him.

When Elizabeth, a little startled, came to meet them at the door, he
repeated all this to her in cheerful tones, but when his father went in,
the look of care came back to his face as he said that he had been
afraid to let him try the long walk up the hill.

"I was just thinking of going down to meet him," said Elizabeth. "It
was very kind of you to bring him home."

"Kind!" repeated Jacob, and then he pulled his hat over his eyes and
went away.

Elizabeth looked after him a moment in surprise. Even Elizabeth, who
thought more kindly of him than any one, except perhaps his father, did
not imagine how much the sight of the old man's increasing weakness had
moved him.

Jacob went to a prayer-meeting that night, and, as his custom was, sat
on a back seat near the door. The rich man of the village was not a
power in the church when one looked beyond material things--the regular
subscription-list, the giving of money, the exercise of hospitality--and
except in regularity of attendance, he was certainly not a power in the
prayer-meeting. But regularity of attendance is something, and on
nights when winter storms, or bitter cold, or domestic contingencies of
any sort, kept the "regular stand-bys" at home, he could and did fill
the place of one or other of them by "taking a part." But he had no
"gift" in that way, and knew it, and kept himself in the background.
His neighbours knew it too, and some of them said sharp things, and some
of them said slighting things of him because of this. But "the
diversity of