nk! Then theer's real sorrow for you, tu, poor
soul--real, grawin' sorrow tu. Differ'nt from mine, but real enough.
Yet--"

She relapsed into a stone-like repose. No facial muscle moved, but the
expression of her mind appeared in her eyes and there gradually grew a
hungry look in them--as of a starving thing confronted with food. The
realisation of these new facts took a long time. No action accompanied
it; no wrinkle deepened; no line of the dejected figure lifted; but when
she spoke again her voice had greatly changed and become softer and very
tremulous.

"O my dear God! 't will be a bit of Clement! Had 'e thought o' that?"

Then she rose suddenly to her feet and expression came to her face--a
very wonderful expression wherein were blended fear, awe, and something
of vague but violent joy--as though one suddenly beheld a loved ghost
from the dead.

"'T is as if all of un weern't quite lost! A li'l left--a cheel of his!
Wummon! You'm a holy thing to me--a holy thing evermore! You'm bearin'
sunshine for your summertime and my winter--if God so wills!"

Then she lifted up her voice and cried to Chris with a strange cry, and
knelt down at her feet and kissed her hands and stroked them.

"Go to un," she said, leaping up; "go to Clem, an' tell un, in his ear,
that I knaw. It'll reach him if you whisper it. His soul ban't so very
far aways yet. Tell un I knaw, tu--you an' me. He'd glory that I knawed.
An' pray henceforrard, as I shall, for a bwoy. Ax God for a bwoy--ax
wi'out ceasin' for a son full o' Clem. Our sorrows might win to the
Everlasting Ear this wance. But, for Christ's sake, ax like wan who has
a right to, not fawning an' humble."

The woman was transfigured as the significance of this news filled her
mind. She wept before a splendid possibility. It fired her eyes and
straightened her shrivelled stature. For a while her frantic utterances
almost inspired Chris with the shadow of similar emotions; but another
side of the picture knew no dawn. This the widow ignored--indeed it had
not entered her head since her first comment on the confession. Now,
however, the girl reminded her,--

"You forget a little what this must be to me, mother."

"Light in darkness."

"I hadn't thought that; an the gert world won't pity me, as you did
when I first told you."

"You ban't feared o' the world, be you? The world forgot un. 'T was your
awn word. What's the world to you, knawin' what you knaw? Do 'e want to
be trea