the youth hoped to be in a few days at the latest, seeing there was no
longer an enemy to fear.

The hearts of all present were filled with thankfulness and joy.

"Come, my beloved Edith," said the old thane. "Let us go first to thank
God;" and they went together to the chapel which had witnessed so many
earnest prayers that day--now, they believed, so fully answered.

All gloom and despondency seemed removed, and Ella went forth to walk
alone in the woods, to meditate in silence on the goodness of God.
Nearly each evening this had been his habit. The woods, he said, were
God's first temples, and when alone he best raised his heart from nature
to nature's God.

His thoughts were happy that evening: his first-born boy would be
restored to him, and, like the father in the Gospels, he longed to
embrace the prodigal, and to tell him that all was forgiven. But he
schooled himself to patience, and many a fervent thanksgiving did he
offer as he wandered amidst the grassy glades.

But he was more weary than usual with the toil and anxiety of the day,
and shortly seated himself upon a mossy bank beneath an aged oak. The
trees grew thickly behind and before him, on each side of the glade,
which terminated at no great distance in the heart of the pathless
forest, so that no occasional wayfarer would be likely to pass that way.

There he reposed, until a gentle slumber stole over him and buried all
his senses in oblivion.