But nevertheless, the stranger had left an influence, and for half an hour
they sat silently musing. Maggie was the first to break its spell. In a
low voice, as she bent lower to the dying fire, she began to talk of the
dead for whom "God had found graves;" and to recall little incidents of
their hard unselfish lives, which particularly touched David's and her own
experience.
"If they were here to-night, Davie--oot on the dark sea--tossed up and
down--pulling in the nets or lines wi' freezing hands--hungry, anxious,
fearfu' o' death--wad we wish it?"
"Na, na, na, Maggie! Where they are noo, the light doesna fade, and the
heart doesna fail, and the full cup never breaks. Come, let us ask o' the
Book thegither. I dinna doot, but we sall get just the word we are
needing."
Maggie rose and took it from its place on the broad shelf by the
window, and laid it down upon the table. David lifted the light and stood
beside her. Then with a reverent upward glance, he opened the well-used
leaves:-"Maggie, what need we mair? Listen to the word o' the Lord;" and with a
voice tender and triumphant he read aloud-"Then are they glad because they be quiet: so He bringeth them unto
their desired haven."