creased by unrighteous anger, and so of
yet another wall of separation raised between him and his God.

Now this weakness all but disappeared during the worst of his illness,
to return for a season with increased force when his recovery had
advanced so far as to admit of his getting out of bed. Children are
almost always cross when recovering from an illness, however patient
they may have been during its severest moments; and the phenomenon is
not by any means confined to children.

A deacon of the church, a worthy little weaver, had been
half-officially appointed to visit Thomas, and find out, which was not
an easy task, if he was in want of anything. When he arrived, Jean was
out. He lifted the latch, entered, and tapped gently at Thomas's
door--too gently, for he received no answer. With hasty yet hesitating
imprudence, he opened the door and peeped in. Thomas was upon his knees
by the fire-side, with his plaid over his head. Startled by the
weaver's entrance, he raised his head, and his rugged leonine face, red
with wrath, glared out of the thicket of his plaid upon the intruder.
He did not rise, for that would have been a task requiring time and
caution. But he cried aloud in a hoarse voice, with his two hands
leaning on the chair, like the paws of some fierce rampant animal:

"Jeames, ye're takin' the pairt o' Sawton upo' ye, drivin' a man frae
his prayers!"

"Hoot, Thamas! I beg yer pardon," answered the weaver, rather flurried;
"I thoucht ye micht hae been asleep."

"Ye had no business to think for yersel' in sic a maitter. What do ye
want?"

"I jist cam' to see whether _ye_ war in want o' onything, Thamas."

"I'm in want o' naething. Gude nicht to ye."

"But, railly, Thamas," expostulated the weaver, emboldened by his own
kindness--"ye'll excuse me, but ye hae nae business to gang doon on yer
knees wi' yer leg in sic a weyk condeetion."

"I winna excuse ye, Jeames. What ken ye aboot my leg? And what's the
use o' knees, but to gang doon upo'? Gang hame, and gang doon upo' yer
ain, Jeames; and dinna disturb ither fowk that ken what theirs was made
for."

Thus admonished, the weaver dared not linger. As he turned to shut the
door, he wished the mason good night, but received no answer. Thomas
had sunk forward upon the chair, and had already drawn his plaid over
his head.

But the secret place of the Most High will not be entered after this
fashion; and Thomas felt that he was shut out. It is not by d