"The old thorny stem of Judaism shall yet bud and blossom into the perfect flower of Christianity!" he cried. "And when it does, O when it does, the 'chosen people' will become a veritable tree of life, whose leaves will be 'for the healing of the nations.'"
CHAPTER XII.
DR. TRENT.
T was a cold, bleak night in November. There was a blazing wood-fire on the library hearth. Bethany sat in a low chair in front of it, with a large, flat book in her lap, which she was using as a desk for her long-neglected letter-writing. An appetizing smell of pop-corn and boiling molasses found its way in from the cozy kitchen, where the sisters were treating Jack to an old-fashioned candy-pulling. The occasional gusts that rattled the windows made Bethany draw closer to the fire, with a grateful sense of warmth and comfort. She thoroughly appreciated her luxurious surroundings, and was glad she had the long, quiet evening ahead of her.
For half an hour the steady trail of her pen along the paper, and the singing of the kettle on the crane, was all that was audible.
Then Jack came wheeling himself in, with a radiant, sticky face, and a plate of candy.