he hour of four; and after that, in his vigil of
weakness, it was strange to see the light glimmer in the crevices, and
to hear the awakening birds that in the garden bushes took up, one after
another, their slender piping song, till all the choir cried together.

But Anthony felt a strange peace in his heart; and he had a sense,
though he could not say why, that it was as once in his childhood, when
he was ill, and his mother had sate softly by him while he slept.

So he waited, and in spite of his mortal weakness that was a blessed
hour.

When his man came to rouse him in the morning, Anthony said that he
believed that he was very ill, that he had had a fall, and that the old
doctor must be fetched to him. The man looked so strangely upon him,
that Anthony knew that he had some fear upon his mind. Presently the
doctor was brought, and Anthony answered such questions as were put to
him, in a faint voice, saying, "I was late at my work, and I slipped and
fell." The doctor, who looked troubled, gave directions; and when he
went away he heard his man behind the door asking the doctor about the
strange storm in the night, that had seemed like an earthquake, or as if
a thunderbolt had struck the house. But the doctor said very gruffly,
"It is no time to talk thus, when your master is sick to death." But
Anthony knew in himself that he would not die yet.

It was long ere he was restored to a measure of health; and indeed he
never rightly recovered the use of his limbs; the doctor held that he
had suffered some stroke of palsy; at which Anthony smiled a little, and
made no answer.

When he was well enough to creep to and fro, he went sadly to the dark
room, and with much pain and weakness carried the furniture out of it.
The picture he cut in pieces and burnt; and the candles and dishes, with
the book, he cast into a deep pool in the stream; the bones he buried in
the earth; the hangings he stored away for his own funeral.

Anthony never entered his workroom again; but day after day he sate in
his chair, and read a little, but mostly in the Bible; he made a friend
of a very wise old priest, to whom he opened all his heart, and to whom
he conveyed much money to be bestowed on the poor; there was a great
calm in his spirit, which was soon written in his face, in spite of his
pain, for he often suffered sorely; but he told the priest that
something, he knew not certainly what, seemed to dwell by him, waiting
patiently for