"That is beautiful," said the singer. "Yes, those words stir my heart--there's nought like music--no, there's nought like music in all the world. Now, I'll give you one more good thing--perhaps a better thing than that--afore I go home. I heard it sung to the organ, and it come from the inside of a church. I don't hold by no church, but this thing has fastened on my heart, and I'll give it to you, neighbors." Hester stooped down and said a word or two to Will Scarlett. "Help me with the words, cousin--sing 'em out full, and as if somehow you held on to them." Will nodded, and the two voices, in perfect harmony, once more filled the court. _"Oh, rest in the Lord. Wait patiently--patiently-for Him; and He shall give thee thy heart's--thy heart's desire."_ As the last notes fell upon the listening people they might have noticed, had they not been so absorbed in watching Hester, that the man's deep voice shook and swayed a little. The fact was this: the flickering rays of the lantern had shown him the ruddy glow of a certain stately head, and for an instant a face shone out, and was lost again in the thick darkness. When the last notes died away Bet turned, and, pressing through the crowd, left the court; but the unerring instinct of love made Will Scarlett hear her departing footsteps over and above all the others. He said two hasty words to Hester, and followed her. CHAPTER XIII. "Bet," said Will, when they got outside; "Bet, I'm here. What is it? You're in trouble. I can tell by the way you turn your head away as you're in sore trouble. Why, there--you're sobbing. Don't, don't. It hurts me sore to see you thus." "It were the music," said Bet. "Hester allays moves me, and there were words as brought mother back. I didn't hold to mother so much when she were living--I weren't never too good to her; but now it seem to me as if I fair hungered for her, and I'd like well to send her a message--many messages. Then, there were them last words. Why, Will, any one 'ud suppose that Hester were of mother's thinking. I never could have guessed it." "Maybe she is, and maybe she isn't," said Will. "Seems to me the words is true, whoever holds on to 'em." They were walking rapidly, and now Bet felt a sweet and yet rough breeze on her cheeks. They were down by the Mersey, and the salt taste from the sea was blown into her hot eyes and burning cheeks. "That's good," she said, flinging back her shawl, and sighing, as if a great burden had been lifted from her. The moon was up, and its white light lay on the rippling water, and just touched the outline of Bet's face. "That's good," she repeated, as she took another draught of the sweet, pure, invigorating air. She had again that pre-occupied look which seemed only half-conscious of her companion. "Let's walk along by the quays," said Will. "Higher up it will blow real fresh; this is nought--only the shadow of the sort of thing that comes to you when you are fairly out on the waves."