CITY called Nain." This city is not mentioned elsewhere in Scripture. A small village in Galilee is pointed out at the present day as the place near which our Lord performed this, one of his greatest miracles. It is still called Nain. "Now when he came nigh to the gate of the city, behold, there was a dead man carried out." In ancient times, all cities of importance were walled in, and of course had gates for the ingress and egress of their inhabitants. Whether it was near Nain's only gate, or a particular gate, that our Lord now was, we have no means of knowing. Wherever it may have been, he met this funeral procession, consisting of the bier, and on it a dead man, the widow, and with her much people of the city. The Jews usually buried their dead the same day, at sundown, as that on which they died; and because dead bodies were unclean, they did not permit them to be buried within their towns, but interred them without the walls.

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"The only son of his mother, and she was a widow." His mother's only remaining tie, binding her to the earth. She is bereaved, childless, hopeless; she follows her dead son weeping. We can almost hear her lamentation to those who would have comforted her: "O call my name Marah, for God hath dealt very bitterly by me. It has pleased him to take away my husband; and now, when my son-my only son—should have been a support and comfort to me, lo! He has cut him off, and left me desolate, without a friend, or husband, or a child, to go down with my grey hairs in sorrow to the grave."

"When the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her, and said unto her, Weep not." St. Luke alone records this miracle, and in doing so applies a sublime name to the Saviour-" the Lord"- —as if he wished to point out to his readers that He who wrought this mighty work claimed with truth to be the equal of Him who in the Old Testament is called "the Lord," even the mighty God.

"Weep not." These words do not prohibit this natural indication of grief: It is not in anger that he tells her to stay her tears; he merely wishes to console her by his gentle accents. "Wipe away thy tears, and lift up thy drooping head; thy son for whom thou weepest shall live again. I will raise him up; and thou shalt know that I the Lord have seen thy afflictions, and will ease thee and comfort thee."

"He touched the bier: and they that bare him stood still." According to the Levitical law, uncleanness was communicated by touching a dead body; but Jesus could and did touch it without defilement

thus showing himself to be above the law, and to be the giver of the law. The bearers clearly understood what was meant by the touch, which must have been full of power, for in all probability the bearers did not know who he was; nevertheless, they “stood still."

“Young man, I say unto thee, Arise." Every word here is worthy of notice. We are not told the exact age of the man, but we can see that the sun of human hopes often sets in the morning, and that the young should not put aside the thought of death. The Godhead of Christ shines forth brightly here. Had he not been God manifest in the flesh, these words would have been blasphemy. He speaks to the dead as living; and on the three occasions on which he brought back the dead to life he raised them by his own Divine word.

"He that was dead sat up, and began to speak." The raising of the dead to life was one of the signs given by our Lord in proof of his being the Messiah. There is here no room for imposture: how easily could it have been detected! This miracle was witnessed by crowds-those who came with Christ, and those who were in the funeral procession. The dead man is not only restored to life, but is made strong enough to sit up, and speak to those around, the witnesses of this display of miraculous power.

"He delivered him to his mother." What a scene this! The Resurrection and the Life meeting death face to face, and rescuing the victim; Christ giving back the lost son to the comforted mother.

"There came a fear on all, and they glorified God, saying, That a great prophet is risen up amongst us.” Fear is the first effect this miracle has on the crowds in whose presence the dead man sat up; and it is little wonder that they should have been astonished, for they had never seen such a thing before. This feeling gave place to another-joy is felt that their eyes behold no ordinary prophet. For more than four hundred years no prophet had appeared in Israel, and now they praised God that he had raised up such a one, and so brought this long and dreary period to a close.

Is there not here a lesson for all? To each one that prays for him, Christ will come, and bring with him times of refreshing; and while we wait, let his compassionate conduct on this occasion encourage us; and in all our deadness of heart, in all slowness to believe, in all heaviness of spirit, let us sit low at his feet; as objects of his pity, till he says to each one of us, I say unto thee, Arise." At his word all our sorrow and sighing shail flee away, and we shall rise up to eternal life.

"You ought to have told me, Gerald ;" and Bessie looked quite indignant. "To think of his being so ill, and I not to know! Oh, Gerald, how could you be so unkind ?"

"If I had told you, Bessie, you could have done no good."

You know how much will depend upon you, but I can rely upon you doing your best; it may be difficult, but you will make the effort. I remember when you were quite a child, if you ever gave your promise it was certain to be kept, if possible."

'It's a great shame, for I've a right to know. Any other medical man would have told me, so that I could have nursed him."

'Not as I would have done, had I known he was in any real danger. I wonder you are not ashamed of yourself, Gerald."

"You forget, Miss Bessie, that you were one of my patients, as well as my uncle. How very thoughtful and judicious it would have been of me to give you causeless alarm, and allow you to wear yourself out with anxiety and fears, which I sincerely trust may have no foundation. It would have been undoing all that had been done, and destroying that which I have been so anxious to build up."

"What was that, Gerald ?"

"Your health, Miss Bessie. I have watched it for months insensibly failing; you gave me more uneasiness than you had an idea of, pretty cousin."

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Ah, indeed, then I presume that was the reason you condemned me to swallow so many bitter potions, Mr. Gerald."

This was spoken half saucily, with an attempt at humorous vivacity that blinded Gerald to the real feeling which found expression in an indescribable softening of her brown eyes and a bright flush of colour that drifted into her face-significant signs from which, at another time perhaps, Gerald would have been able to draw certain inferences, but that moment he saw nothing; he was really anxious about the old man's health, and returned to the subject, saying with a smile, "You have no need to find fault with me on that score, Miss Bessie, for those bitter potions were all for your own good; but with regard to my uncle, I cannot disguise, either from myself or you, that his health is breaking."

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Oh, Gerald is that the truth? I thought he seemed better the last few days, and it was making me feel so happy."

"So he is better, Bessie. I have not said that there is any immediate danger, nor do I think there is serious cause for present alarm-only the necessity for constant care and watchfulness, that is the best we can do for him. Those fits of fainting were an indication of failing power. But try not to let it depress you, Bessie; keep up your strength in readiness for the time of need, you cannot tell how heavily it may be taxed."

Bessie's lips quivered, but she made no reply to the young doctor. He watched her attentively, then

They

had a secret in her keeping. The music that should wake once for every woman's ear had been sounding through her life, thrilling and pervading it with sweet, subtle melody. She loved. Cyril Chadburn's proposal and continued pressing of his suit had revealed it to her, and unsealed the page which she might have shrunk from reading even to herself. Her heart had gone out to the hero of Phoebe's rescue from the river. From that time she loved Gerald with all the steadfast strength and depth of her earnest nature. No wonder that patient Cyril had hitherto worked and plotted in vain; he could not gain access to the heart which love for another had so effectually closed against him.

The foregoing conversation had taken place in the big oak parlour, where Bessie was seated at needlework. A pause followed, which Gerald occupied by taking a minute inventory of the contents of the young lady's workbox; he was engaged in dissecting its ingenious recesses, when he accidentally detached from among some lace, where it had been hidden, a bookmark, the one that Phoebe had found, and which he at once recognised.

Why, surely I ought to know this; what magic has spirited it into your workbox, Bessie ?"

His exclamation of surprise made Bessie look up, her colour changing when she saw what was in his hand.

"Yes, certainly, you ought to know your own property; but it is a very commonplace explanation that I have to give, for there has been no magic at work, unless Phoebe is the magician. You must have dropped the bookmark during one of your visits, and it has escaped notice until Phoebe found it the other day; I intended to restore it the last time you were here, but forgot to do so; I was very sorry for the omission, as I can understand what its value will be to you."

She unconsciously placed an emphasis on her last words which, together with the tone of her voice, perplexed Gerald, and gave him an uncomfortable sensation, for which he could not account, except that somehow that precious bookmark was at the bottom of it. There was no chance for asking an explanation then, for Phœbe entered with a message from Lewis Darley.

Gerald little guessed that he had been listening to

the involuntary expression of irritated jealousy. The best-regulated minds can be jealous, and Bessie Grant's was no exception to the rule.

CHAPTER LX.

"FRIEND OR ENEMY?" THEY were standing together under one of the clumps of magnificent elms that overshadowed the undulating greensward, and formed one of the chief beauties of Chadburn Park. They had met by appointment, Cyril Chadburn and the stranger, who repelled while he interested and perplexed him.

The manner of his introduction had been so singular-an elderly gentleman, whom he had not even noticed until he startled him by taking up the answer to his soliloquy concerning Bessie Grant, with the remarkable words, "She shall, Mr. Chadburn."

"That is putting a question, Mr. Chadburn-not answering mine."

The cool dogmatic tones of the stranger mystified Cyril, for they seemed to imply the possession of a certain amount of power. He felt that it was useless contending the point, and, though much against his will, gave the required information.

"I admit you have a right to put the question, assuming all you told me in our first interview to be true, though you must allow it has yet to be proved. Still I see no objection to answering your question. There is no mortgage either on Chadburn Court or Park."

"Indeed, I must confess that I did not expect that answer, Mr. Chadburn. But now with respect to this young lady whom you are desirous of making your wife. Have you thought over what I said to you on our first meeting?" "I have."

"Well, and the result?"

"Is that I believe you have overrated your power

Cyril bowed, and the stranger continued, "You should fill in that gap yonder at the foot of the hill with a few trees, it would shut out the village, which I consider spoils the view in that direction."

"Thank you for the hint, which I am sorry to say is thrown away, for I had that gap made purposely; the village forms a break in the belt of trees. But we have not met to discuss Chadburn Park, but a subject of far greater importance."

a good deal of influence into the scale, but it would undo all I have been doing, for though I am learning to love her, I can only marry her on one condition."

The stranger eyed Cyril for a moment, then asked, with evident curiosity, "And what may this condition be, Mr. Chadburn?"

"It is this: I only marry her as Lewis Darley's heiress."

"Whew!"

astonishment, and to his disgust heard him murmur

The stranger coolly eyed the young man as he replied, "Excuse me, Mr. Chadburn, but your face contradicts that assertion of yours-you do understand me."

The stranger, keen as he was, had mistaken the character of the man with whom he had to deal.

"Then let my face answer you, for I have no wish or time to waste words. Good morning;" and Cyril turned haughtily away, but the stranger laid his hand upon his shoulder and forcibly detained him.

Darley's heiress. Ah, then that is the loadstone which attracts the heir of Chadburn to Abbey House." Aloud he said, "So that is the condition you alluded to, Mr. Chadburn, and you think that were I to interfere it might prove disastrous to your plans?"

"I do," was the curt rejoinder.

Cyril had come to the conclusion that he could do without the man's assistance; his first idea had come back that the fellow was an impostor, and he began to treat him accordingly.

"Then am I to understand that you refuse my offer, Mr Chadburn?"

"Yes."

An angry flush passed over the stranger's face, but there was not the slightest change apparent in his voice as he said, "And you believe it is quite possible to win Lewis Darley's adopted daughter without my aid?"

"I do."

"Whether I am favourable or not towards you?" Certainly. I consider your power to be a myth; I don't believe in it."