wered to my knock. With a gesture imploring silence
she led me in. I was startled at the sight which met my eyes. The old
man lay stretched on the bare earthen floor, his head pillowed upon a
large stone. His body was covered by blankets, but his arms were
crossed on his breast outside of them and embraced his crucifix. His
eyes were closed, but he was still breathing fitfully. Bell whispered,
in response to my amazed look of inquiry:

"He wouldna' rest till Wully and I lifted him oot o' bed before Wully
went for the priest. He'd been keepin' yon big stane for years to
serve him at the last."

Val appeared very soon. Archie showed no sign of recognition, even
when the well-known voice began the prayers he seemed to have been
waiting for before departing.

Bell lighted the blessed candle, which was in readiness, and knelt with
Willy on one side of the quiet form, while I knelt on the other near to
the priest.

"Go forth, Christian soul, out of this world, in the name of God the
Father Almighty, Who created thee: in the name of Jesus Christ, the Son
of the Living God, Who suffered for thee"--thus the quiet voice
continued until those prayerful words: "Pity his sighs, pity his tears,
trusting in nothing but thy mercy"--when the last long breath, like a
sigh of relief, passed from the dying man's lips as his soul departed.

I could not shake off a sense of loss as keen as though some dearly
loved friend had been taken from me. Val and I walked home in unbroken
silence through the shadow of the wood, newly decked in tender green
buds, up to the rising ground beyond. My brother seemed as much
touched as I.

It was not until our meal was over, and we sat on either side of the
still necessary fire, though we had dined without a lamp, and still
preferred the dusk for a quiet talk, that Val spoke of Archie.

"Now that the poor old fellow is at rest," he said, "I will tell you,
by his express desire, something about his history. He wanted me to
promise to make it public, but that I resolutely refused to do, for
many reasons. 'Let Mr. Edmund know, at least,' he said. 'I do not
want him to have too good an opinion of me, or he will not pray as much
as I should wish for my poor soul.' So you have a right to know, Ted."

And with that he unfolded the story of Archie McLean's early years.

Archie had been a wild boy in his youth, with a strong propensity for
drink--hereditary, unfortunately--which he was not so