“No that,” he once said to Maggie, “I ever cared vera muckle aboot the angels: it’s the man, the perfec man, wha was there wi’ the Father afore ever an angel was h’ard tell o’, that sen’s me upo my knees! Whan I see a man that but minds me o’ _Him_, my hert rises wi’ a loup, as gien it wad ’maist lea’ my body ahint it.—Love’s the law o’ the universe, and it jist works amazin!” One day a man, seeing him approach in the near distance, and knowing he had not perceived his presence, lay down behind a great stone to watch “the mad soutar,” in the hope of hearing him say something insane. As John came nearer, the man saw his lips moving, and heard sounds issue from them; but as he passed, nothing was audible but the same words repeated several times, and with the same expression of surprise and joy as if at something for the first time discovered:—“Eh, Lord! Eh, Lord, I see! I un’erstan’!—Lord, I’m yer ain—to the vera deith!—a’ yer ain!—Thy father bless thee, Lord!—I ken ye care for noucht else!—Eh, but my hert’s glaid!—that glaid, I ’maist canna speyk!” That man ever after spoke of the soutar with a respect that resembled awe. After that talk with her father about the child and his mother, a certain silent change appeared in Maggie. People saw in her face an expression which they took to resemble that of one whose child was ill, and was expected to die. But what Maggie felt was only resignation to the will of her Lord: the child was not hers but the Lord’s, lent to her for a season! She must walk softly, doing everything for him as under the eye of the Master, who might at any moment call to her, “Bring the child: I want him now!” And she soon became as cheerful as before, but never after quite lost the still, solemn look as of one in the eternal spaces, who saw beyond this world’s horizon. She talked less with her father than hitherto, but at the same time seemed to live closer to him. Occasionally she would ask him to help her to understand something he had said; but even then he would not always try to make it plain; he might answer— “I see, lassie, ye’re no just ready for ’t! It’s true, though; and the day maun come whan ye’ll see the thing itsel, and ken what it is; and that’s the only w’y to win at the trowth o’ ’t! In fac’, to see a thing, and ken the thing, and be sure it’s true, is a’ ane and the same thing!” Such a word from her father was always enough to still and content the girl. Her delight in the child, instead of growing less, went on increasing because of the _awe_, rather than _dread_ of having at last to give him up. CHAPTER XIX.