“Margaret, Margaret, my ain han’s morrow, my ain han’s morrow,” he said weakly, putting out his fingers to seek her hand. And then the wife sank on her knees and brokenly sobbed out her full heart in a psalm of praise, “I will bless the Lord at all times; his praise shall continually be in my mouth.” The sick man took up the words and followed her faintly, “This poor man cried and the Lord heard him, and saved him out of his troubles.” Dr. Flint stood with bowed head listening. There was something that touched him to the very core of his being in this renewed union of husband and wife. There was a look of exaltation on the woman’s face, and the man clasping her hand bent on her eyes full of trustful love. They seemed to forget him; they were together in the presence of a higher power, which at that moment it seemed impossible to ignore or to distrust, and he, the man who doubted, who had told himself that there was no all-guiding hand, followed the words of the faithful as they poured them forth in the Presence, and at the end he said devoutly, “Amen.” CHAPTER XX HER HEART’S DESIRE It was, of course, weeks before Fergus Kennedy could take his place among his fellow-men; there was still need for quiet, and he was spared much excitement, so that only at intervals were his friends allowed to see him. Joseph M’Clean, the minister, Jimmy O’Neill, one by one were admitted to the sick room, and at last it was permitted that the restored man should be allowed to go to church; it was the thing he most desired to do. All around the settlement the news had flown: Fergus Kennedy has his wits again, and the little log structure was crowded to overflowing that Sabbath. It was the thirty-fourth psalm which was lined out from Rouse’s version, the same psalm that had come from the full heart of the wife who desired to give thanks. It was a simple and touching service, but to none more so than to Henry Flint, who sat for the first time under the roof of the little log church. He was scarcely less observed than Fergus Kennedy, at whose side he sat, and when the names of those who desired to unite with the church by letter or by profession of faith were read out, there was a perceptible stir among the congregation when Henry Flint’s was spoken. No one knew the man’s intention except Mrs. Kennedy and the minister himself. “It was a good woman’s prayers, her beautiful faith and trust, which I had daily evidence of, that at last brought me light,” said the doctor to the minister, and the good man returned, “Ay, many a puir soul has been brought home by the gentle leadings of a woman, Dr. Flint.”