By the time he reached the top, it was as light as it was all the day; but it was with a dull yellow glare, as if the sun were obscured by the smoke and vaporous fumes of a burning world which the rain had been sent to quench.

It was a wild, hopeless scene--as if God had turned his face away from the world, and all Nature was therefore drowned in tears--no Rachel weeping for her children, but the whole creation crying for the Father, and refusing to be comforted.

Gibbie stood gazing and thinking.

Did God like to look at the storm he made?
If Jesus did, would he have left it all and gone to sleep, when the wind and waves were howling, and flinging the boat about like a toy between them?
He must have been tired, surely! With what?
Then first Gibbie saw that perhaps it tired Jesus to heal people; that every time what cured man or woman was life that went out of him, and that he missed it, perhaps--not from his heart, but from his body; and if it were so, then it was no wonder if he slept in the midst of a right splendid storm.

And upon that Gibbie remembered what St.