"Why, you are all wet, and draggled, and smoked!" said she, taking off Faith's outer, borrowed garments. "What _has_ happened to you--and how came you there, Miss Faith?" "I fell asleep in the countingroom, last evening, and got locked in. I was coming home. I can't tell you now, Glory. I don't dare to think it all over, yet. And we mustn't let Aunt Faith know that I am here." These sentences they spoke in whispers. Glory asked no more; but brought warm water, and bathed and rubbed Faith's feet, and helped her to undress, and put her night clothes on, and covered her in bed with blankets, and then went away softly to the kitchen, whence she brought back, presently, a cup of hot tea, and a biscuit. "Take these, please," she said. "I don't think I can, Glory. I don't want anything." "But he told me to take care of you, Miss Faith!" That, also, had a power with Faith. Because he had said that, she drank the tea, and then lay back--so tired! * * * * * "I waited up till you came, sir, because I thought you would like to know," said Glory, meeting Mr. Armstrong once more upon the doorstone, as he returned a second time from the fire. "She's gone to sleep, and is resting beautiful!" "You are a good girl, Glory, and I thank you," said the minister; and he put his hand forth, and grasped hers as he spoke. "Now go to bed, and rest, yourself." It was reward enough. From the plenitude that waits on one life, falls a crumb that stays the craving of another. CHAPTER XXX. AUNT HENDERSON'S MYSTERY. "Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west, And I said in underbreath,--All our life is mixed with death, And who knoweth which is best? "Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west, And I smiled to think God's greatness flowed around our incompleteness,-- Round our restlessness, His rest." MRS. BROWNING. "So the dreams depart, So the fading phantoms flee, And the sharp reality Now must act its part." WESTWOOD. It was a little after noon of the next day, when Mr. Rushleigh came to Cross Corners. Faith was lying back, quite pale, and silent--feeling very weak after the terror, excitement, and fatigue she had gone through--in the large easy-chair which had been brought for her into the southeast room. Miss Henderson had been removed from her bed to the sofa here, and the two were keeping each other quiet company. Neither could bear the strain of nerve to dwell long or particularly on the events of the night. The story had been told, as simply as it might be; and the rest and the thankfulness were all they could think of now. So there were deep thoughts and few words between them. On Faith's part, a patient waiting for a trial yet before her. "It's Mr. Rushleigh, come over to see Miss Faith. Shall I bring him in?" asked Glory, at the door.