hardly knew why.  The next time he did it she laid down her work, locked and unlocked her hands, and looking toward the door, whispered under her breath, “Dear hands!” Finally this became almost a habit of his; he did not at first think Draxy would hear it; but he felt, as he afterwards told her, “like a great affectionate dog going by her door, and that was all he could do.  He would have liked to lie down on the rug.”

These were very sweet days; spite of his misgivings, Elder Kinney was happy; and Draxy, in spite of her unconsciousness, seemed to herself to be living in a blissful dream.  But a sweeter day came.

One Saturday evening Reuben said to Draxy,—­

“Daughter, I’ve done somethin’ I’m afraid’ll trouble you.  I’ve told th’ Elder about your verses, an’ showed him the hymn you wrote when you was tryin’ to give it all up about the land.”

“Oh, father, how could you,” gasped Draxy; and she looked as if she would cry.

Reuben could not tell just how it happened.  It seemed to have come out before he knew it, and after it had, he could not help showing the hymn.

Draxy was very seriously disturbed; but she tried to conceal it from her father, and the subject was dropped.

The next morning Elder Kinney preached—­it seemed to his people—­as he never preached before.  His subject was self-renunciation, and he spoke as one who saw the waving palms of the martyrs and heard their shouts of joy.  There were few dry eyes in the little meeting-house.  Tears rolled down Draxy’s face.  But she looked up suddenly, on hearing Elder Kinney say, in an unsteady voice,—­

“My bretherin, I’m goin’ to read to you now a hymn which comes nigher to expressin’ my idea of the kind of resignation God likes than any hymn that’s ever been written or printed in any hymn-book;” and then he began:—­

“I cannot think but God must know,” etc.

Draxy’s first feeling was one of resentment; but it was a very short-lived one.  The earnest tone, the solemn stillness of the wondering people, the peaceful summer air floating in at the open windows,—­all lifted her out of herself, and made her glad to hear her own hymn read by the man she loved, for the worship of God.  But her surprise was still greater when the choir began to sing the lines to a quaint old Methodist tune.  They had been provided with written copies of the hymn, and had practiced it so faithfully that they sang it well.  Draxy broke down and sobbed for a few moments, so that Elder Kinney was on the point of forgetting everything, and springing to her side.  He had not supposed that anything in the world could so overthrow Draxy’s composure.  He did not know how much less strong her nerves were now than they had been two months before.

After church, Draxy walked home alone very rapidly.  She did not wish to see any one.  She was glad that her father and mother had not been there.  She could not understand the tumult of her feelings.