, and
solemnly gave the apostolical benediction,--to what? to the silent
earth, the dark woods, the wide breathing atmosphere; for we were but
spectators gasping an Amen!

It seemed to me that it must be the middle of the night, as we all walked
back. It was in reality very late. Dr. Moncrieff put his arm into mine.
He walked slowly, with an air of exhaustion. It was as if we were coming
from a death-bed. Something hushed and solemnized the very air. There was
that sense of relief in it which there always is at the end of a
death-struggle. And nature, persistent, never daunted, came back in all
of us, as we returned into the ways of life. We said nothing to each
other, indeed, for a time; but when we got clear of the trees and
reached the opening near the house, where we could see the sky, Dr.
Moncrieff himself was the first to speak. "I must be going," he said;
"it's very late, I'm afraid. I will go down the glen, as I came."

"But not alone. I am going with you, Doctor."

"Well, I will not oppose it. I am an old man, and agitation wearies more
than work. Yes; I'll be thankful of your arm. To-night, Colonel, you've
done me more good turns than one."

I pressed his hand on my arm, not feeling able to speak. But Simson,
who turned with us, and who had gone along all this time with his taper
flaring, in entire unconsciousness, came to himself, apparently at the
sound of our voices, and put out that wild little torch with a quick
movement, as if of shame. "Let me carry your lantern," he said; "it is
heavy." He recovered with a spring; and in a moment, from the
awe-stricken spectator he had been, became himself, sceptical and
cynical. "I should like to ask you a question," he said. "Do you
believe in Purgatory, Doctor? It's not in the tenets of the Church, so
far as I know."

"Sir," said Dr. Moncrieff, "an old man like me is sometimes not very
sure what he believes. There is just one thing I am certain of--and that
is the loving-kindness of God."

"But I thought that was in this life. I am no theologian--"

"Sir," said the old man again, with a tremor in him which I could feel
going over all his frame, "if I saw a friend of mine within the gates of
hell, I would not despair but his Father would take him by the hand
still, if he cried like _you_."

"I allow it is very strange, very strange. I cannot see through it. That
there must be human agency, I feel sure. Doctor, what made you decide
upon the person and the na