e villain who
betrayed your master."

The man's face brightened suddenly.

"Aye, and is that so? Why couldn't ye have tell't me that afore? Keep
your money in your pouch. You'll have the horses in the morn. I'll take
it on myself to give them to you. I'd like fine to be going along. But
there's the mistress and the weans. I darena leave them, and I willna.
There's na yin only me and the God that's above us all for her to look
to now."

Micah Ward, followed by his son, hastened to the MacClure's house. He
stood for a moment on the threshold, lifted his hat solemnly from his
head, and invoked a blessing on the building and all in it. Then he
went to the woman, took one of her hands in his, and spoke to her with
wonderful tenderness.

"Bessie, my poor bairn. Hearken to me, Bessie. Quit crying now, quit
crying. Do you mind, Bessie, the day I was in with you and Rab away at
Ballymoney? Do you mind how you said to me that every day you thanked
God for the good husband he had given you? Do you mind that? Ah, woman,
you mind it well. And you know rightly what the blessed book says to
you--' The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away. Blessed be the name
of the Lord.' Are you to receive good at the Lord's hand, my bairn, and
not evil, too?"

He laid his hand upon her head and prayed aloud. The terrified maid
stood still, her light in her hand, her hair in tangled strings, half
covering her face. The labourer, Donald, and Neal stood together near
the door. The children buried their heads in their mother's lap. Micah
Ward poured out his very soul in supplication. Very literally it might
be said that he wrestled with his God in prayer. It was in some such
terms that he himself would have described the spiritual effort which
he made. More than once, after a pause in his outpouring he repeated,
in tones which were almost fierce in their determination, the words of
Jacob to the angel--"I will not let you go until you bless me." For
a long time he continued to pray, interrupted by no sound except an
occasional bitter cry from Bessie MacClune. One after another the feeble
lights flickered, guttered and went out. The room was in darkness.
Through the open door came the long roaring of the sea. Within, Micah
Ward's voice rose to passionate cries or sank to a tender whisper.
Bessie MacClure's grief found utterance now only in half-choked sobs. At
last even these ceased. Her hands ceased wandering over the curly heads
of the children