rch and to call for the offices of
religion on occasions of death or marriage. He had assisted at the
saying of prayers and assented to their contents. He had even joined in
them himself, since a liturgical service was a principle in the church
to which he "belonged." All this, however, had seemed remote from his
personal affairs, his life-and-death struggles--till now. Now, all at
once, queerly, it offered him something--he knew not what. It might be
nothing better than any of the straws he had been clutching at. It might
be no more than the effort he had just been making to compel two to
balance ten.

He stood in the middle of the room under the cluster of electric lights
and tried to recollect what he knew, what he had heard, of this Power
that could still act when human strength had reached its limitations.
It was nothing very definite. It consisted chiefly of great phrases,
imperfectly understood: "Father Almighty," "Saviour of the World,"
"Divine Compassion" and such like. He did not reason about them, or try
to formulate what he actually believed. It was instinctively, almost
unconsciously, that he began to speak; it was brokenly and with a kind
of inward, spiritual hoarseness. He scarcely knew what he was doing when
he found himself saying, mentally:

"Save me!... I'm helpless!... I'm desperate!... Save me!... Work a
miracle!... Father!... Christ! Christ! Save my daughter!... We have no
one--but--but You!... Work a miracle! Work a miracle!... I'm a thief and
a liar and a traitor--but save me! I might do something yet--something
that might render me--worth salvation--but then--I might not.... Anyhow,
save me!... O God! Father Almighty!... Almighty! That means that You can
do anything!... Even now--You can do--anything!... Save us!... Save us
all!... Christ! Christ! Christ!"

* * * * *

He knew neither when nor how he ceased, any more than when or how he
began. His most clearly defined impression was that of his spirit coming
back from a long way off to take perception of the fact that he was
still standing under the cluster of electric lights and the clock was
striking three. He was breathless, exhausted. His most urgent physic
need was that of air. He strode to the window-door leading out to the
terraced lawn, and, throwing it open, passed out into the darkness.

There was no mist at this height above the Charles. The night was still,
and the moon westering. The light had a gl