When Mat came in from the plough, his grandmother told him that "young Master Harry" had come to see them, but not one word did she repeat of the conversation that had taken place, except that part which simply related to the invitation from the Queen. The husband and wife avoided even speaking to each other about that subject which was uppermost in the minds of both. Evening closed in; the aged couple and their grandson sat down to their simple supper, and, while they ate, chatted about the morrow's wedding, and the sailor's return, and the Queen's invitation, and other topics of the day. But when the meal was over, and Martha had cleared away the fragments, Michael, from his seat by the hearth, gravely addressed his wife. "Martha, I've been a-thinking about what you and me was hearing to-day about these same sins of omission—that's the word—leaving undone what ought to be done. You and me—we reads our Bible on Sundays reg'lar enough; but I mind me that the parson told us in church that we should no more do without our daily reading of Scripture than without our daily food. Suppose now you bring the Book. It's late to begin the custom, seeing we're both growing old, but there's the less time for delay, so we'll read a bit o' the Bible to-night afore we go to our rest." "Ah! Michael, I've often thought of this, but I didn't like to be the first to speak about doing it," said Martha, as, after dusting the large Bible with her apron, she set it on the deal table before her husband, and then pushed the little brass candlestick towards him, that the light from the candle might fall on the Book. Michael slowly opened the holy volume, slowly turned over page after page, before he found the passage which he sought. Then, in a solemn tone, tracing the lines as he read with his finger, the old cottager began the 22nd chapter of the Gospel of St. Luke. Mat sat very quiet and attentive at his grandmother's side; the cottage seemed to the lad to have become as holy a place as the church; and though his grandfather certainly could not read like the parson, the lad thought to himself that somehow or other the words went just as straight to the heart. Michael read on slowly and steadily till he came to the end of the 19th verse, and then his voice faltered, the finger which rested on the page trembled, and, with a deep sigh, the old man closed the Bible. "Be you not well?" asked Martha, anxiously. Her husband leant back in his chair, and pressed his hand over his eyes.