The herald., 1898-11-20
u Know That He Lied"

word. He then told where the big sill
Ter penny was hid, and asked me to
put it in the kirk plate the next Sab
bath for the poor. So his mother went
for the money. 1t was hid ava in Il
wee box in the thatch O. the cottage.
and she brought it to the dying lad,
and he put it in my hand wi fingers
that were almost clay. And 1 prom
side him all he asked and prayed wi
him, and he went ava smiling. Then
1 looked at the big siller penny, and
saw that it was a false crown piece,
not worth bodle, and when l got
home I threw 1t in the fire, and the
next Sabbath I put a true, honest
crown in the kirk plate for the laddie
that was then in heaven. But 1 told
you naethng at all, for you We're but
a bruised reed, and I did not want 10
hang your head still lower. Do you
now believe that Roy is innocent?"
ALAS. Alas 1 must just believe
Andrew would not lie on his death
bed"
Then, why, on Gods earth, are you
crying for such a man, Helen?"
II am crying. father, because he does
deserve tears"
This was a refinement of grief hard
for Brodick to understand. He an
swered with some anger: 1.-The man is
dead and buried. as far as you are con-
cerned Let the dead bury the dead;
as for you follow Him that died and is
alive, and living forever. Then you
will get not only peace, but happiness. -
After this conversation Brodick went
more and more frequently to Glasgow.
and showed an unusual attention to
his dress and appearance. He is that
set up with the minister and the big
folk he meets with him. thought
Helen, a little scornfully; "one would
think there had never been a minis
ter's wedding before, and never would
be another while the world lasted. I'm
fairly weary of hearing tell O. it"
However, after little Andrews con-
fession Helen gradually got the mas
terry of herself. Every possible excuse
for her sentimental sorrow was taken
away, and whether we will it or not,
time-appointed of God for the conso-
lation of all grief-does oblterate and
heal. And as soon as Helen knowing
ly and consciously turned her face to
"the hills from which cometh our
help" she was comforted-comforted
in prayer, in sleep, in work, in all her
household ways, until her sorrow was
very nearly tale of old unhappy,
far-off things. Then she realized how
foolish it had been, and how utterly
useless, since all her tears could never
make
"the grass to grow,
"On the trampled meadows of long
ago"
Some change also that she could not
define had come into her home. Her
father. though affectionate as ever,
was not the same. His comings and
goings had lost their regularity He
was always wearying for post time; he
who had scarce ever before either writ
ten or received q letter. He was evi-
dently happy, and yet he had hardly
a word to say to her She understood.
when too late that she had lost some
of her influence over him; he came no
longer to her with his little troubles.
and hopes and plans; and she asked
herself sadly if Roy's love had been
worth what she had lost for it.
One night in the following spring, as
she sat knitting by the open door, her
father said to her: Helen, my dear
lassie, you be to have some new
dresses. There is going to be we'd
ding in the family" She looked at him
sharply. and he nodded his head, and
continued: II am going to be married
myself next month"
Father. Never! Never"
"Why not?"
"How will l bear the like O. that?"
"What?"
"a strange woman in the house
mistress you ken-and where will l be?
it is sair trial, father I'm not able
to face it. However could you think
O such a thing?"
ut was you put the thought, and the
need, in my mind yourself, Helen. You
taught me, with Roy Anderson, that
must give you up, and live my lane,
or else have a strange man whom
disliked and distrusted always at my
fireside. If it please God, I may live