ners in answer to his footsteps.

At last he gave a great sigh, and said, "I'm so tired." But he did not
hear the gentle echo that answered from far away over his head, for at
the same moment he came against the lowest of a few steps that stretched
across the church, and fell down and hurt his arm. He cried a little
first, and then crawled up the steps on his hands and knees. At the top
he came to a little bit of carpet, on which he lay down; and there he
lay staring at the dull window that rose nearly a hundred feet above his
head.

Now this was the eastern window of the church, and the moon was at that
moment just on the edge of the horizon. The next, she was peeping over
it. And lo! with the moon, St. John and St. Paul, and the rest of them,
began to dawn in the window in their lovely garments. Diamond did not
know that the wonder-working moon was behind, and he thought all the
light was coming out of the window itself, and that the good old men
were appearing to help him, growing out of the night and the darkness,
because he had hurt his arm, and was very tired and lonely, and North
Wind was so long in coming. So he lay and looked at them backwards over
his head, wondering when they would come down or what they would do
next. They were very dim, for the moonlight was not strong enough for
the colours, and he had enough to do with his eyes trying to make out
their shapes. So his eyes grew tired, and more and more tired, and his
eyelids grew so heavy that they would keep tumbling down over his eyes.
He kept lifting them and lifting them, but every time they were heavier
than the last. It was no use: they were too much for him. Sometimes
before he had got them half up, down they were again; and at length he
gave it up quite, and the moment he gave it up, he was fast asleep.

CHAPTER VIII. THE EAST WINDOW

THAT Diamond had fallen fast asleep is very evident from the strange
things he now fancied as taking place. For he thought he heard a sound
as of whispering up in the great window. He tried to open his eyes, but
he could not. And the whispering went on and grew louder and louder,
until he could hear every word that was said. He thought it was the
Apostles talking about him. But he could not open his eyes.

"And how comes he to be lying there, St. Peter?" said one.

"I think I saw him a while ago up in the gallery, under the Nicodemus
window. Perhaps he has fallen down.

"What do you think, St. Matthew?"