both the evil one and the
avenging host were gone--all was resolved into turbid water and
submerged, groaning ice.

So he watched the break-up of the ice, and the travelling of the river
which, slipping by at his feet, going forth to wander the world, left
him stationary. Perhaps some drops of this Last Chance River would
some day be washed up in a wave on the tropic shores of Ceylon, or,
having spent a winter in the Arctic, would be carried down in a berg
and, having melted, flow on round Cape Horn to the Pacific till they
came to Polynesia, where they would be parted by the swimming hands of
dusky, slender girls. He grew jealous at the thought, and bending down
baled out some of the water in his palms, and threw it on the ground,
saying angrily, "You at least shall stay." Then he laughed at his
folly and was comforted by thinking, "When my body is dead, it also
will journey forth. I must be patient like the river, and wait. In
God's good time I also shall wander round the world."

"But shall I know? Shall I be conscious of that?" the spirit of
discontent inquired.

Granger shook his head irritably, as if by so doing he could throw off
these troublesome imaginations. Since the death of Strangeways, he had
not recovered his poise of soul. Ah, and Strangeways! Was Strangeways
conscious of his body's release, and the permission which death had
given him to wander forth? How odd to think that that body, which had
been born of a woman in England and tended by her hands, which had
strolled through English lanes and over Oxford meadows, gesticulating
and talking, doing good and evil, which even in its life had brought
the man who inhabited it so many miles from home, now that the soul
had departed from it, should be hurrying away alone to hide itself in
Arctic fastnesses! Did Strangeways know that? Was he conscious of this
new adventure? Well, if God was so anxious to take care of Spurling,
He could be trusted to look after Strangeways--if anything of him
survived.

The melting of the ice had chilled the air. The coldness of his yet
living body awoke him to a realisation of the petty suffering of that
small part of his universe which was explored and known. Taking one
last look at the ruin which the one night's thaw had worked, the
pinnacles, and beauty, and whiteness which it had destroyed,
"Courage!" he said, "for this is life."

CHAPTER X

A MESSAGE FROM THE DEAD

The sun was shining down; the spring rai