It was a happy Sunday for Daniel, in spite of the minister’s absence and the downcast looks of the congregation as they occupied their accustomed seats. The chapters read out of the Bible had new meaning for him, and the singing brought happy tears to his eyes. It seemed as if he had never truly known God before; and though the sermon, by a student merely, was one which he would have criticised with contempt a week ago, now it was pleasant only to hear the names of his God and Saviour; just as one is pleased to hear even a stammering tongue speak the praises of those we love.

During the evening service Jessica went to stay with the minister’s children. Jane came down to her in the hall and told her they were to sit in their father’s room while the strange nurse and their own nurse were having tea together in an adjoining room.

“Nurse thinks,” said Jane, “that, if papa knew, he would like us to sit with him this Sunday evening; and sometimes we think he does know, though he never speaks, and he seems to be asleep all the time. We are to read our chapter and say our hymns just as if he could hear. And nurse says he told your mother only last Sunday that he loves you almost like one of his own little girls. So we said we should like you to come and read with us; for you are not a bit afraid, Jessica.”

They had mounted the stairs while Jane was whispering these sentences; and now, hand in hand, they entered the minister’s room.

There was a fire burning and a lamp lit upon a table, so that the minister’s face could be plainly seen, as they stole with tender caution to his side. It had been a pale face always, but it was very colorless now; the lids were closed lightly over the eyeballs, which seemed almost to burn and shine through them; and the lips, which might have been speaking words that seemed to bring his listeners almost into the presence of God, were locked in silence. Yet the face was full of life, which rippled underneath, as it were; as if the colorless cheeks, and thin eyelids, and furrowed forehead were only a light mask; and while the children gazed upon it the lips moved slowly, but soundlessly.

“He is talking to God,” whispered Jessica, in a tone of awe.

“Jessica,” said Winny, pressing close to her, “I can’t help thinking about Paul, when he was caught up into the third heaven and heard unspeakable words. I think perhaps he looked like my father.”

She had never called him father before, and she uttered it in a strangely solemn voice, as if it was a more fitting title than the familiar one they had called him by on ordinary days. They stood beside him for a few minutes, and then they crept on tiptoe across to the hearth. The children read their chapter, and said their hymns, and sang a favorite one of their father’s, in soft low tones which could scarcely have been heard outside the room; and the little timepiece over the fireplace chimed seven as they finished.

“It was just this time last Sunday,” said Jane, “when papa had the stroke. He was just going to pray when the chapel-clock struck seven.”

“I wonder what he was going to say?” said Winny, sorrowfully.

“Our Father!” murmured a voice behind them, very low and weak, like the voice of one who has only strength to utter a single cry; and turning quickly, with a feeling of fear, they saw their father’s eyes opened, and looking towards them with inexpressible tenderness. Jessica laid her finger on her lips as a sign to them to be still, and with timid courage she went to the minister’s side.

“Do you know us again?” she asked, trembling between fear and joy; “do you know who we are, minister?”

“Jessica, and my children,” he whispered, with a feeble smile fluttering upon his face.

“He is come back!” cried Jessica, returning with swift but noiseless steps to Jane and Winny. “Let us make haste and tell the others. Maybe he is hungry and weak and faint. But he knows us—he is come back to us again.”

In a few minutes the joyful news was known throughout the house, and was carried to the chapel before the evening service was over; and the congregation, as they dispersed, spoke hopefully of the minister’s recovery. It was the crowning gladness of the day to Daniel, and he lingered at the minister’s house, to which he hastened as soon as he had closed the chapel, until it was getting on for midnight; and then he left Jessica with the children and started off for his home with a heart in which joy was full.