About the same time, Mrs. Swaffham and Jane stood together on the eastern terrace of the Manor House, silently admiring the moonlight over the level land. But in a few moments Jane began in a low voice to recite the first verse of the one hundred and third Psalm; her mother took the second verse, they clasped hands, and as they slowly paced the grassy walk they went with antiphonal gladness through the noble thanksgiving together. The ninety-first Psalm followed it, and then Mrs. Swaffham said— "Now, Jane, let us go to bed and try to sleep. I haven’t been worth a rush to-day for want of my last night’s sleep. There’s a deal to do to-morrow, and it won’t be done unless I am at the bottom of everything. My soul, too, is wondrous heavy to-night. I keep asking it ’Why art thou cast down, O my soul, and why art thou disquieted within me?’ and I get no answer from it." "You must add counsel to inquiry, mother. Finish the verse—’Trust thou in God, and thou shalt yet praise Him, who is the health of thy countenance, and thy God.’ You see, you are to answer yourself." "I didn’t think of that, Jane. A sad heart is poor company, isn’t it?" "There is an old saying, mother,—’A merry heart goes all the day.’" "But who knows how much the merry heart may have to carry? There is another saying still older, Jane, that is a good deal better than that. It is God’s grand charter of help, and you’ll find it, dear, in Romans eighth and twenty-eighth. I can tell you, my heart would have failed me many and many a time, it would indeed, but for that verse." "Are you troubled about my father and brothers?" "Oh, Jane, that is the sword point at my heart. Any hour it may pierce me. Cromwell went to Scotland, and what for but to fight? and my men-folk have not charmed lives." "But their lives are hid with Christ in God; nothing can hurt them, that is not of His sending."