‘Oh, Father, God, Protector, Friend,’ said the young man, with tears running down his worn cheeks, ‘what can we render to Thee for all Thou art to us, for all Thou doest for us? We have cried to Thee in our distress, and Thou hast heard our cry. We wept in our abject fear of loss, and Thou hast dried our tears. Thou hast sent Thy messenger angels, with healing in their wings, to succour this dear child of Thine--this dear companion of ours--and give her and us alike time to do something to prove the sense of gratitude we have for Thy great love to us. Oh, Father, make us more grateful, more thankful, more resolved to live the lives which Thou hast given us, to Thee, more careful of the beautiful, earthly love with which Thou hast brightened and made happy these lives. Amen.’ No one could mistake the earnestness and fervour and genuineness of this address, which Hugh delivered as simply as if he had been speaking to his earthly father in his earthly home. Mrs Llewellyn could not restrain mingling her tears with his. She told the farmer afterwards that Hugh’s way of praying made her feel as if the Almighty were standing just beside them where they knelt. Softly as the young minister had preferred his petition, it seemed to have reached the sleeper’s ear, even through her dreams, for as his ‘Amen’ fell on the air, Nell opened her eyes and said very softly,-- ‘Thank you, Hugh.’ The sound of her voice, and the assurance that his presence had not disturbed her, so moved his sensitive disposition that he sprung forward, and, sinking again upon his knees by her side, raised her thin hand to his lips and kissed it several times in succession, whilst his dark eyes glowed with feeling. ‘Thank you,’ again sighed Nell. ‘Good-night.’ ‘Yes, yes, my lad, it must be good-night, for you mustn’t stay here!’ exclaimed Mrs Llewellyn, who was fearful of the effects of any agitation on her invalid. ‘You’ve had your wish and seen Nell, and you’ve prayed a beautiful prayer, and now you must come back to the parlour with me and have a bit of supper. Go down to the kitchen, Betsy,’ she continued to the old nurse, ‘and get our Nell another drop of beef-tea, and I’ll be up to see after her as soon as the table’s cleared. Bless her heart! if she isn’t off again. She’ll want all the sleep she can get now, to make up for the sore time she’s passed through. Come, Hugh.’ But the young minister refused all her offers of hospitality. He felt as if food would choke him just then. He wanted to be alone to think of his great and unexpected joy--to thank the Giver of it over and over again. He walked home through the crisp October evening, wandering far afield, in order to commune with his own thoughts, and enlarging the prayer of thankfulness, with which his heart was bursting, by another petition, that God, who had given this woman back to him and her friends, would give her to him also and altogether as his wife.