saw heaven in Martha's eyes. It all came about in this way.

Gideon was young when he got religion and joined the church, and he
grew up strong in the faith. Almost by the time he had become a
valuable house servant he had grown to be an invaluable servant of the
Lord. He had a good, clear voice that could lead a hymn out of all the
labyrinthian wanderings of an ignorant congregation, even when he had
to improvise both words and music; and he was a mighty man of prayer.
It was thus he met Martha. Martha was brown and buxom and comely, and
her rich contralto voice was loud and high on the sisters' side in
meeting time. It was the voices that did it at first. There was no
hymn or "spiritual" that Gideon could start to which Martha could not
sing an easy blending second, and never did she open a tune that
Gideon did not swing into it with a wonderfully sweet, flowing,
natural bass. Often he did not know the piece, but that did not
matter, he sang anyway. Perhaps when they were out he would go to her
and ask, "Sis' Martha, what was that hymn you stahrted to-day?" and
she would probably answer, "Oh, dat was jes' one o' my mammy's ol'
songs."

"Well, it sholy was mighty pretty. Indeed it was."

"Oh, thanky, Brothah Gidjon, thanky."

Then a little later they began to walk back to the master's house
together, for Martha, too, was one of the favored ones, and served,
not in the field, but in the big house.

The old women looked on and conversed in whispers about the pair, for
they were wise, and what their old eyes saw, they saw.