"Noo, ye jist hearken, Tibbie," she said, as she returned. And, opening
the Bible, she read one of Tibbie's favourite chapters, rather slowly
no doubt, but with perfect correctness.
"Weel, lassie, I canna mak heid or tail o' 't."
"I'll tell ye, Tibbie, what the mune aye minds me o'. The face o' God's
like the sun, as ye hae tellt me; for no man cud see him and live."
"That's no sayin', ye ken," interposed Tibbie, "that we canna see him
efter we're deid."
"But the mune," continued Annie, disregarding Tibbie's interruption,
"maun be like the face o' Christ, for it gies licht and ye can luik at
it notwithstandin'. The mune's jist like the sun wi' the ower-muckle
taen oot o' 't. Or like Moses wi' the veil ower's face, ye ken. The
fowk cudna luik at him till he pat the veil on."
"Na, na, lass; that winna do; for ye ken his coontenance was as the sun
shineth in his strenth."
"Ay, but that was efter the resurrection, ye ken. I'm thinkin' there
had been a kin' o' a veil ower his face a' the time he was upo' the
earth; and syne whan he gaed whaur there war only heavenly een to luik
at him, een that could bide it, he took it aff."
"Weel, I wadna wonner.
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