He went from them to my father, and offered his hand doubtingly, as if afraid it might be refused.

Papa took it in both his own.  An instant later Mr. Axtell came to me.  Surely he had no forgiveness to ask of Anna Percival.  No; he only said, and I am certain that no one heard, save me, “I thank God that He has not let me shadow your life.  Farewell!”

He left the room.  We all looked, one at another, in that dim astonishment which is never expressed in words.  Papa broke the spell by putting on fresh coals.

Miss Lettie said, “Poor Abraham!” and yet she looked so happy, so as I had never seen her yet!

A few moments later Jeffy came rushing in, his eyes dilate with amazement.

“The gentleman is gone,” he said, “gone entirely.”

It was even so.  Mr. Axtell had gone, no one knew whither.  It was late at night, when a letter came for Doctor Percival by a special messenger.

I never saw it.  I only know that in it Mr. Axtell explained his intention of absence, and wrote, for his sister’s sake, to make arrangements for her future.  She was to return to Redleaf, at such time as she chose to go hence, with Mr. McKey; and to Aaron’s and Sophie’s care Mr. Axtell committed her.

Papa gave the letter to Miss Lettie.  She read it in silence, and her face was immovable.  I could divine nothing from it.

Last March! how long the time seems!  Scarce six months have gone since I gave the record, and now the summer is dying.

I thought Miss Axtell would have ventured out on the bridge, far and high, ere now; but no, she says “the time is not yet,—­that she will wait until Abraham comes home”; and Bernard McKey is content.

The solemn old house is closed.  No longer Katie opens the door and Kino looks around the corner.  Kino died, perhaps of grief:  such deaths have been.

Miss Axtell has put off the old Dead-Sea-wave face.  She has just put a calm, beautiful, happy one in at my door, to ask Anna Percival “why she sits and writes, when the last days of summer are drawing nigh?” Miss Axtell stays with me, and a great contentment sings to those who have ears to hear through all her life.  If only Mr. Axtell would come home!  Why does he stay away so long, and take such a dreary line of travel, where old earth is seamed in memoriam of man’s rebellion?  I’ll send to him the althea-bud, when next his sister writes.

The leaves are fallen now.  Winter is almost come.  There is no need that I should send out the althea-fragment.  Mr. Axtell wrote to me.  Last night I received these words only,—­and yet what need I more?

“God hath given me peace.  I am coming home.”

THE LEGEND OF RABBI BEN LEVI.

  Rabbi Ben Levi, on the Sabbath, read
  A volume of the Law, in which it said,
  “No man shall look upon my face and live.” 
  And as he read, he prayed that God would give
  His faithful servant grace with mortal eye
  To look upon His face and yet not die.