e the fire,
fighting out the old, weary battle; but now with a fury as if for life.

To go on with his work at Raye & Hemming's now in the light of what had
come to him this night would be, he knew, to cast aside all the
teachings of his lifetime--the teachings of Granny, of experience, yes,
even of Monteith, for he realised now they had all come from God, and
were one. He was down in the valley of the shadows, and the rod and
staff were of no comfort to him, for they meant pain and renunciation.

He could not give up Captain Herbert's friendship and Isabel; he could
not go on. The fire had died down to a red eye looking sullenly out of
the smoky darkness, the moon had sunk behind the forest ring, and out
of the blackness of night came a sensation of approaching change, a
hint that the dawn was near. As Scotty, pale and haggard, stood
looking into the dying fire, a step aroused him and the minister was by
his side.

"Why, sir," he cried in surprise, "you will surely not be getting up
yet. It is quite dark."

"I was not sleeping," said the old man. "I could not but watch you,"
he added gently, "for I cannot but see you are carrying a burden; one
heavy for your time of life, my lad, and I wondered if I could be of
any help."

All Scotty's mental attitude of defiance melted away before this gentle
sympathy. He was silent, simply through the inability to speak, and
the minister continued, "Do not speak of it if you would rather not. I
would not force your confidence, but just come and we will pray about
it, and you will tell the Father and He will be making it right."

Scotty turned with a gesture of defeat. To pray was the last thing he
desired to do, it meant surrender; but this time he knelt obediently at
the minister's side by the dying fire.

And as he bowed his head he was suddenly startled by the words that
broke forth. It seemed as if all his own soul's struggle had been
transferred to the man at his side. Old John McAlpine had a wondrous
gift of prayer, one that never failed to cast a solemn spell over his
hearers, and to-night he pleaded for the soul of this young man as if
for his life. His big hands were knotted, the perspiration stood in
beads on his white forehead, and his agonised voice rose and went
ringing away into the forest. Scotty was awesomely reminded of One who
prayed in a garden, quite unlike this one of nature's wild making, and
sweat drops of blood because of the sin he was to