“In my outward lot, which you ask about, I have all things and abound.  I have had constant work in the mill, though some of the other hands have been turned off for a time, and my body is greatly strengthened, so that I feel little weariness after long walking and speaking.  What you say about staying in your own country with your mother and brother shows me that you have a true guidance; your lot is appointed there by a clear showing, and to seek a greater blessing elsewhere would be like laying a false offering on the altar and expecting the fire from heaven to kindle it.  My work and my joy are here among the hills, and I sometimes think I cling too much to my life among the people here, and should be rebellious if I was called away.

“I was thankful for your tidings about the dear friends at the Hall Farm, for though I sent them a letter, by my aunt’s desire, after I came back from my sojourn among them, I have had no word from them.  My aunt has not the pen of a ready writer, and the work of the house is sufficient for the day, for she is weak in body.  My heart cleaves to her and her children as the nearest of all to me in the flesh—­yea, and to all in that house.  I am carried away to them continually in my sleep, and often in the midst of work, and even of speech, the thought of them is borne in on me as if they were in need and trouble, which yet is dark to me.  There may be some leading here; but I wait to be taught.  You say they are all well.

“We shall see each other again in the body, I trust, though, it may be, not for a long while; for the brethren and sisters at Leeds are desirous to have me for a short space among them, when I have a door opened me again to leave Snowfield.

“Farewell, dear brother—­and yet not farewell.  For those children of God whom it has been granted to see each other face to face, and to hold communion together, and to feel the same spirit working in both can never more be sundered though the hills may lie between.  For their souls are enlarged for evermore by that union, and they bear one another about in their thoughts continually as it were a new strength.—­Your faithful Sister and fellow-worker in Christ,

“Dinah Morris.”

“I have not skill to write the words so small as you do and my pen moves slow.  And so I am straitened, and say but little of what is in my mind.  Greet your mother for me with a kiss.  She asked me to kiss her twice when we parted.”

Adam had refolded the letter, and was sitting meditatively with his head resting on his arm at the head of the bed, when Seth came upstairs.

“Hast read the letter?” said Seth.

“Yes,” said Adam.  “I don’t know what I should ha’ thought of her and her letter if I’d never seen her:  I daresay I should ha’ thought a preaching woman hateful.  But she’s one as makes everything seem right she says and does, and I seemed to see her and hear her speaking when I read the letter.  It’s wonderful how I remember her looks and her voice.  She’d make thee rare and happy, Seth; she’s just the woman for thee.”