utter prayer. All the depths of his nature were stirred up; fierce passions that had long lain dormant and still, suddenly rose to battle in his breast. Anger-hatred—even revenge, started up as if from long slumber, and-darkest of all-the spirit of rebellion, that spirit that dares to question even the justice of the Almighty, hissed its suggestions into his soul. "Is it not in vain that I have kept my hands pure, that I have trampled worldly gain under foot, that I have dared to refuse to join in the worship of Mammon!" Holdich, much as he had known of the world and its wickedness, had never seen before so much of the workings of Satan, for he beheld them now not only around--but within! Not that he doubted that in the end innocence would be cleared; but when he remembered how utterly unable his son had appeared to speak in his own defence, when he remembered how many witnesses had seen his exit through the window, a view of which was commanded by those of the servants' hall; when he recalled the indisputable fact that Ned had been seized by the watch-dog and only rescued from its fangs by the menials, he could not but be aware that long-perhaps life-long disgrace might cloud the name of his boy, even if he should escape the doom of a burglar! And where were means to be found of procuring counsel to defend him? In case of his being committed for trial, and Holdich could not shut his eyes to the probability

of this, who would offer bail for his appearance? The want of money appeared to be a more serious evil than ever. Then came the bitterness of parental disappointment. Holdich felt assured that his boy could never have stooped to theft; but he had broken his father's command, he had feasted with his father's enemies, he had indulged in that intemperance which his father had ever condemned. Ned had brought his misery upon himself; and in that misery was involved that of the parents who had built upon him their dearest earthly hopes !

There are some periods in each man's life, even the life of a Christian, when he seems to be left to himself, as it is written of Hezekiah, God left him to try him, that He might know all that was in his heart. Such are the darkest moments in the ex

perience of the children of light. Their sun yet

shines, but the shadow of earth has hidden it from them; God's eye is upon them, but they do not feel His guiding hand; they are tossed in the tempest, and though the Saviour is with them, it seems as if He slept. Even Elijah despairingly prayed for death; even David, after long-continued proofs of God's over-ruling care, exclaimed, "I shall perish by the hand of Saul!" Nor are these seasons without their value, for we learn in them our own weakness, our want of faith and submission; they teach us, like children too feeble to walk, to cling to the arm which is Almighty.

It was such a season with Robert Holdich, as he sat gloomily before the fire, revolving his present trial, so much heavier than any which he had hitherto been called on to sustain. Twice Rebekah, uneasy at his delay, descended the narrow stair, and timidly opened the door; each time, as if disturbed by her entrance, Holdich motioned her away. He gazed

with fixed tearless eyes at the glowing embers before him, seeming to watch the gradually fading away of their light, and perhaps tracing in them emblems of his own cherished hopes. His lamp burnt low in the socket, flared, flickered, then expired; Holdich cared not to rise to replace the candle within it; he needed no light, gloom was more congenial to his soul.

So all was dark, almost utterly dark, for the moon was shedding her watery beams on the other side of the cottage, and scarcely did their faintest reflection relieve the blackness of outer night.

Long and deadly was the struggle between faith and doubt, submission and rebellion. Hours passed unheeded by. At length Holdich rose from his seat, not comforted-but subdued; not encouraged to hope, but strengthened to endure. He rose with the words on his lips, Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him, and turning towards the window saw the first rosy tint in the deep blue sky that announced that dawn was approaching. The struggle was over, the gloom was departing, once more Holdich

could look up with an eye of faith to the God whom he served, and trust his cause, the cause of his child, to Him who judgeth righteously. He could bow his knee in prayer, and as he did so, the stormy waves of passion were stilled. Earthly hopes might die away, but the day-star again was rising; the tried Christian remembered and trusted the word, I will never leave thee nor forsake thee.

S

XVII.

The Examination.

OFT and bright dawned the morning. The freshness of the air, the fragrance of the flowers, the drops that glittered on leaf and spray, alone told of the weeping night that had preceded it. Rebekah was early down on that morning. Before the clouds had lost the bright rose of sunrise, she had relit the fire in the grate, brought the water from the spring, and she was preparing the table for breakfast, when her husband reentered the parlour.

Holdich looked paler than usual, perhaps older; but the steward had quite regained his calm composure of manner. He had braced himself up for the trials of the day. Rebekah was tremulous and sad, deep lines under her eyes betrayed long weeping, but in her new resolve to deny self and forget self, she made a brave effort to suppress any burst of grief that might shake the courage of her husband. Nay, she could greet him with words of trust; "Robert, we know that all things work together for good." He thanked her by a press of the hand.