IX
Shewasawakenedbythescreamofanengine，andlookedaroundheramazed。Herneckhadfallensidewayswhilesheslept，andfelthorridlystiff;herheadached，andshewasshivering。Shesawbytheclockthatitwaspastfive。’IfonlyIcouldgetsometea！’shethought。’AnywayIwon’tstayhereanylonger！’Whenshehadwashed，andrubbedsomeofthestiffnessoutofherneck，thetearenewedhersenseofadventurewonderfully。Hertraindidnotstartforanhour;shehadtimeforawalk，towarmherself，andwentdowntotheriver。Therewasanearlyhaze，andalllookedalittlemysterious;butpeoplewerealreadypassingontheirwaytowork。
Shewalkedalong，lookingatthewaterflowingupunderthebrightmisttowhichthegullsgaveasortofhoveringlife。ShewentasfarasBlackfriarsBridge，andturningback，satdownonabenchunderaplane—tree，justasthesunbrokethrough。Alittlepastywomanwithapinchedyellowishfacewasalreadysittingthere，sostill，andseemingtoseesolittle，thatNoelwonderedofwhatshecouldbethinking。Whileshewatched，thewoman’sfacebeganpuckering，andtearsrolledslowly，down，tricklingfrompuckertopucker，till，summoninguphercourage，Noelsidlednearer，andsaid:
\"Oh！What’sthematter？\"
Thetearsseemedtostopfromsheersurprise;littlegreyeyesgazedround，patientlittleeyesfromaboveanalmostbridgelessnose。
\"I’adababy。It’sdead……itsfather’sdeadinFrance……Iwasgoin’inthewater，butIdidn’tlikethelookofit，andnowIneverwill。\"
That\"NowIneverwill，\"movedNoelterribly。Sheslidherarmalongthebackofthebenchandclaspedtheskinniestofshoulders。
\"Don’tcry！\"
\"Itwasmyfirst。I’mthirty—eight。I’llnever’aveanother。Oh！
Whydidn’tIgointhewater？\"
Thefacepuckeredagain，andthesqueezed—outtearsrandown。’Ofcourseshemustcry，’thoughtNoel;’cryandcrytillitfeelsbetter。’Andshestrokedtheshoulderofthelittlewoman，whoseemotionwasdisengagingthescentofoldclothes。
\"ThefatherofmybabywaskilledinFrance，too，\"shesaidatlast。
Thelittlesadgreyeyeslookedcuriouslyround。
\"Was’e？’Aveyougotyourbabystill？\"
\"Yes，oh，yes！\"
\"I’mgladofthat。It’urtssobad，itdoes。I’dratherloseme’usbandthanmebaby，anyday。\"Thesunwasshiningnowonacheekofthatterriblypatientface;itsbrightnessseemedcruelperchingthere。
\"CanIdoanythingtohelpyou？\"Noelmurmured。
\"No，thankyou，miss。I’mgoin’’omenow。Idon’tlivefar。Thankyoukindly。\"Andraisinghereyesforonemoreofthosehalf—
bewilderedlooks，shemovedawayalongtheEmbankmentwall。Whenshewasoutofsight，Noelwalkedbacktothestation。Thetrainwasin，andshetookherseat。Shehadthreefellowpassengers，allinkhaki;verysilentandmoody，asmenarewhentheyhavetogetupearly。Onewastall，dark，andperhapsthirty—five;thesecondsmall，aridaboutfifty，withcropped，scantygreyhair;thethirdwasofmediumheightandquitesixty—five，withalongrowoflittlecolouredpatchesonhistunic，andabald，narrow，well—shapedhead，greyhairbrushedbackatthesides，andthethin，collectedfeaturesanddroopingmoustacheoftheoldschool。ItwasathimthatNoellooked。Whenheglancedoutofthewindow，orotherwiseretiredwithinhimself，shelikedhisface;butwhenheturnedtotheticket—
collectororspoketotheothers，shedidnotlikeithalfsomuch。
Itwasasiftheoldfellowhadtwoselves，oneofwhichheusedwhenalone，theotherinwhichhedressedeverymorningtomeettheworld。
TheyhadbeguntotalkaboutsomeTribunalonwhichtheyhadtosit。
Noeldidnotlisten，butawordortwocarriedtohernowandthen。
\"Howmanyto—day？\"sheheardtheoldfellowask，andthelittlecroppedmananswering:\"Hundredandfourteen。\"
Freshfromthesightofthepoorlittleshabbywomanandhergrief，shecouldnothelpasortofshrinkingfromthattrimoldsoldier，withhisthin，regularface，whoheldthefateofa\"Hundredandfourteen\"inhisfirm，narrowgrasp，perhapseveryday。Wouldheunderstandtheirtroublesorwants？Ofcoursehewouldn’t！Then，shesawhimlookingathercriticallywithhiskeeneyes。Ifhehadknownhersecret，hewouldbethinking:’Aladyandactlikethat！
Oh，no！Quite—quiteoutofthequestion！’Andshefeltasifshecould，sinkundertheseatwithshame。Butnodoubthewasonlythinking:’Veryyoungtobetravellingbyherselfatthishourofthemorning。Prettytoo！’Ifheknewtherealtruthofher——howhewouldstare！Butwhyshouldthisutterstranger，thisolddisciplinarian，byacasualglance，bythemereformofhisface，makeherfeelmoreguiltyandashamedthanshehadyetfelt？Thatpuzzledher。Hewas，mustbe，anarrow，conventionaloldman;buthehadthispowertomakeherfeelashamed，becauseshefeltthathehadfaithinhisgods，andwastruetothem;becausesheknewhewoulddiesoonerthandepartfromhiscreedofconduct。Sheturnedtothewindow，bitingherlips—angryanddespairing。Shewouldnever——nevergetusedtoherposition;itwasnogood！Andagainshehadthelongingofherdream，totuckherfaceawayintothatcoat，smellthescentofthefrieze，snugglein，beprotected，andforget。’IfIhadbeenthatpoorlonelylittlewoman，’shethought，’andhadlosteverything，Ishouldhavegoneintothewater。Ishouldhaverushedandjumped。It’sonlyluckthatI’malive。Iwon’tlookatthatoldmanagain:thenIshan’tfeelsobad。’
Shehadboughtsomechocolateatthestation，andnibbledit，gazingsteadilyatthefieldscoveredwithdaisiesandthefirstofthebuttercupsandcowslips。Thethreesoldiersweretalkingnowincarefullyloweredvoices。Thewords:\"women，\"\"undercontrol，\"
\"perfectplague，\"cametoher，makingherearsburn。Inthehypersensitivemoodcausedbythestrainofyesterday，herbrokennight，andtheemotionalmeetingwiththelittlewoman，shefeltasiftheywereincludingheramongthose\"women。\"’Ifwestop，I’llgetout，’shethought。Butwhenthetraindidstopitwastheywhogotout。ShefelttheoldGeneral’skeenveiledglancesumherupforthelasttime，andlookedfullathimjustforamoment。Hetouchedhiscap，andsaid:\"Willyouhavethewindowupordown？\"
andlingeredtodrawithalf—wayup。’Hispunctiliousnessmadeherfeelworsethanever。Whenthetrainhadstartedagainsheroamedupanddownheremptycarriage;therewasnomoreawayoutofherpositionthanoutofthisrollingcushionedcarriage！AndthensheseemedtohearFort’svoicesaying:’Sitdown，please！’andtofeelhisfingersclaspherwrist，Oh！hewasniceandcomforting;hewouldneverreproachorremindher！Andnow，probably，shewouldneverseehimagain。
Thetraindrewupatlast。ShedidnotknowwhereGeorgelodged，andwouldhavetogotohishospital。Sheplannedtogetthereathalfpastnine，andhavingeatenasortofbreakfastatthestation，wentforthintothetown。Theseasidewasstillwrappedintheearlyglamourwhichhauntschalkofabrightmorning。Butthestreetswereverymuchalive。Herewasrealbusinessofthewar。Shepassedhouseswhichhadbeenwrecked。Trucksclangedandshunted，greatlorriesrumbledsmoothlyby。Sea——andAir—planesweremovinglikegreatbirdsfarupinthebrighthaze，andkhakiwaseverywhere。ButitwastheseaNoelwanted。Shemadeherwaywestwardtoalittlebeach;and，sittingdownonastone，openedherarmstocatchthesunonherfaceandchest。Thetidewasnearlyup，withthewaveletsofabluebrightsea。Thegreatfact，thegreatestfactintheworld，exceptthesun;vastandfree，makingeverythinghumanseemsmallandtransitory！Itdidhergood，likeatranquillisingfriend。Theseamightbecruelandterrible，awfulthingsitcoulddo，andawfulthingswerebeingdoneonit;butitswidelevelline，itsnever—
endingsong，itssanesavour，werethebestmedicineshecouldpossiblyhavetaken。SherubbedtheShellysandbetweenherfingersinabsurdecstasy;tookoffhershoesandstockings，paddled，andsatdryingherlegsinthesun。
Whensheleftthelittlebeach，shefeltasifsomeonehadsaidtoher:
’Yourtroublesareverylittle。There’sthesun，thesea，theair;
enjoythem。Theycan’ttakethosefromyou。’
AtthehospitalshehadtowaithalfanhourinalittlebareroombeforeGeorgecame。
\"Nollie！Splendid。I’vegotanhour。Let’sgetoutofthiscemetery。We’llhavetimeforagoodstretchonthetops。Jollyofyoutohavecometome。Tellusallaboutit。\"
Whenshehadfinished，hesqueezedherarm。348
\"Iknewitwouldn’tdo。YourDadforgotthathe’sapublicfigure，andmustexpecttobedamnedaccordingly。Butthoughyou’vecutandrun，he’llresignallthesame，Nollie。\"
\"Oh，no！\"criedNoel。
Georgeshookhishead。
\"Yes，he’llresign，you’llsee，he’sgotnoworldlysense;notagrain。\"
\"ThenIshallhavespoiledhislife，justasif——oh，no！\"
\"Let’ssitdownhere。Imustbebackateleven。\"
Theysatdownonabench，wherethegreencliffstretchedoutbeforethem，overaseaquiteclearofhaze，fardownandveryblue。
\"Whyshouldheresign，\"criedNoelagain，\"nowthatI’vegone？He’llbelostwithoutitall。\"
Georgesmiled。
\"Found，mydear。He’llbewhereheoughttobe，Nollie，wheretheChurchis，andtheChurchmenarenot——intheair！\"
\"Don’t！\"criedNoelpassionately。
\"No，no，I’mnotchaffing。There’snoroomonearthforsaintsinauthority。There’suseforasaintlysymbol，evenifonedoesn’tholdwithit，butthere’snomortaluseforthosewhotrytohavethingsbothways——tobesaintsandseersofvisions，andyettocomethepracticalandworldlyandruleordinarymen’slives。Saintlyexampleyes;butnotsaintlygovernance。You’vebeenhisdeliverance，Nollie。\"
\"ButDaddyloveshisChurch。\"
Georgefrowned。\"Ofcourse，it’llbeawrench。Aman’sboundtohaveacoseyfeelingaboutaplacewherehe’sbeenbosssolong;andthereissomethingaboutaChurch——thedrone，thescent，thehalfdarkness;there’sbeautyinit，it’sapleasantdrug。Buthe’snotbeingaskedtogiveupthedrughabit;onlytostopadministeringdrugstoothers。Don’tworry，Nollie;Idon’tbelievethat’seversuitedhim，itwantsathickerskinthanhe’sgot。\"
\"Butallthepeoplehehelps？\"
\"Noreasonheshouldn’tgoonhelpingpeople，isthere？\"
\"Buttogoonlivingthere，without——Motherdiedthere，youknow！\"
Georgegrunted。\"Dreams，Nollie，allroundhim;ofthepastandthefuture，ofwhatpeopleareandwhathecandowiththem。Ineverseehimwithoutaskirmish，asyouknow，andyetI’mfondofhim。ButI
shouldbetwiceasfond，andhalfaslikelytoskirmish，ifhe’ddropthehabitsofauthority。ThenIbelievehe’dhavesomerealinfluenceoverme;there’ssomethingbeautifulabouthim，Iknowthatquitewell。\"
\"Yes，\"murmuredNoelfervently。
\"He’ssuchaqueermixture，\"musedGeorge。\"Cleanoutofhisage;
chalksabovemostoftheparsonsinaspiritualsenseandchalksbelowmostofthemintheworldly。AndyetIbelievehe’sintherightofit。TheChurchoughttobeaforlornhope，Nollie;thenweshouldbelieveinit。Insteadofthat，it’sasortofbusinessthatnoonecantaketooseriously。Yousee，theChurchspiritualcan’tmakegoodinthisage——hasnochanceofmakinggood，andsointhemainit’sgivenitupforvestedinterestsandsocialinfluence。
YourfatherisasymbolofwhattheChurchisnot。Butwhataboutyou，mydear？There’saroomatmyboarding—house，andonlyoneoldladybesidesmyself，whoknitsallthetime。IfGracecangetshiftedwe’llfindahouse，andyoucanhavethebaby。They’llsendyourluggageonfromPaddingtonifyouwrite;andinthemeantimeGracie’sgotsomethingsherethatyoucanhave。\"
\"I’llhavetosendawiretoDaddy。\"
\"I’lldothat。Youcometomydiggingsathalfpastone，andI’llsettleyouin。Untilthen，you’dbetterstayuphere。\"
Whenhehadgonesheroamedalittlefarther，andlaydownontheshortgrass，wherethechalkbrokethroughinpatches。Shecouldhearadistantrumbling，verylow，travellinginthatgrass，thelongmutteroftheFlandersguns。’Iwonderifit’sasbeautifuladaythere，’shethought。’Howdreadfultoseenogreen，nobutterflies，noflowers—notevensky—forthedustoftheshells。Oh！won’titever，everend？’Andasortofpassionfortheearthwelledupinher，thewarmgrassyearthalongwhichshelay，pressedsoclosethatshecouldfeelitwitheveryinchofherbody，andthesoftspikesofthegrassagainsthernoseandlips。Anachingsweetnesstorturedher，shewantedtheearthtocloseitsarmsabouther，shewantedtheanswertoherembraceofit。Shewasalive，andwantedlove。Notdeath——notloneliness——notdeath！Andoutthere，wherethegunsmuttered，millionsofmenwouldbethinkingthatsamethought！
X
Piersonhadpassednearlythewholenightwiththerelicsofhispast，therecordsofhisstewardship，thetokensofhisshortmarriedlife。Theideawhichhadpossessedhimwalkinghomeinthemoonlightsustainedhiminthatmelancholytaskofdocketinganddestruction。
Therewasnotnearlysomuchtodoasonewouldhavesupposed，for，withallhisdreaminess，hehadbeenoddlyneatandbusinesslikeinallparishmatters。Butahundredtimesthatnighthestopped，overcomebymemories。Everycorner，drawer，photograph，paperwasathreadinthelong—spunwebofhislifeinthishouse。Somephaseofhiswork，somevisionofhiswifeordaughtersstartedforthfromeachbitoffurniture，picture，doorway。Noiseless，inhisslippers，hestoleupanddownbetweenthestudy，diningroom，drawing—room，andanyoneseeinghimathisworkinthedimlightwhichvisitedthestaircasefromabovethefrontdoorandtheupper—passagewindow，wouldhavethought:’Aghost，aghostgoneintomourningfortheconditionoftheworld。’Hehadtomakethisreckoningto—night，whiletheexaltationofhisnewideawasonhim;hadtorummageouttheverydepthsofoldassociation，sothatonceforallhemightknowwhetherhehadstrengthtoclosethedooronthepast。Fiveo’clockstruckbeforehehadfinished，and，almostdroppingfromfatigue，satdownathislittlepianoinbrightdaylight。Thelastmemorytobesethimwasthefirstofall;hishoneymoon，beforetheycamebacktoliveinthishouse，alreadychosen，furnished，andwaitingforthem。TheyhadspentitinGermany——thefirstdaysinBaden—baden，andeachmorninghadbeenawakenedbyaChoraleplayeddowninthegardensoftheKurhaus，agentle，beautifultune，toremindthemthattheywereinheaven。Andsoftly，sosoftlythatthetunesseemedtobebutdreamshebeganplayingthoseoldChorales，oneafteranother，sothatthestillysoundsfloatedout，throughtheopenedwindow，puzzlingtheearlybirdsandcatsandthosefewhumanswhowereabroadasyet……
HereceivedthetelegramfromNoelintheafternoonofthesameday，justashewasabouttosetoutforLeila’stogetnewsofher;andcloseonthetopofitcameLavendie。Hefoundthepainterstandingdisconsolateinfrontofhispicture。
\"Mademoisellehasdesertedme？\"
\"I’mafraidweshallalldesertyousoon，monsieur。\"
\"Youaregoing？\"
\"Yes，Iamleavinghere。IhopetogotoFrance。\"
\"Andmademoiselle？\"
\"Sheisattheseawithmyson—in—law。\"
Thepainterranhishandsthroughhishair，butstoppedthemhalf—
way，asifawarethathewasbeingguiltyofill—breeding。
\"Mondieu！\"hesaid:\"Isthisnotacalamityforyou，monsieurlecure？\"ButhissenseofthecalamitywassopatentlylimitedtohisunfinishedpicturethatPiersoncouldnothelpasmile。
\"Ah，monsieur！\"saidthepainter，onwhomnothingwaslost。\"Commejesuisegoiste！Ishowmyfeelings;itisdeplorable。Mydisappointmentmustseemabagatelletoyou，whowillbesodistressedatleavingyouroldhome。Thismustbeatimeofgreattrouble。Believeme;Iunderstand。Buttosympathisewithagriefwhichisnotshownwouldbeanimpertinence，woulditnot？YouEnglishgentlefolkdonotletusshareyourgriefs;youkeepthemtoyourselves。\"
Piersonstared。\"True，\"hesaid。\"Quitetrue！\"
\"IamnojudgeofChristianity，monsieur，butforusartiststhedoorsofthehumanheartstandopen，ourownandothers。Isupposewehavenopride——c’esttres—indelicat。Tellme，monsieur，youwouldnotthinkitworthyofyoutospeaktomeofyourtroubles，wouldyou，asIhavespokenofmine？\"
Piersonbowedhishead，abashed。
\"Youpreachofuniversalcharityandlove，\"wentonLavendie;\"buthowcantherebethatwhenyouteachalsosecretlythekeepingofyourtroublestoyourselves？Manrespondstoexample，nottoteaching;yousettheexampleofthestranger，notthebrother。Youexpectfromotherswhatyoudonotgive。Frankly，monsieur，doyounotfeelthatwitheveryrevelationofyoursoulandfeelings，virtuegoesoutofyou？AndIwilltellyouwhy，ifyouwillnotthinkitanoffence。Inopeningyourheartsyoufeelthatyouloseauthority。
Youareofficers，andmustneverforgetthat。Isitnotso？\"
Piersongrewred。\"Ihopethereisanotherfeelingtoo。Ithinkwefeelthattospeakofoursufferingsor，deeperfeelingsistoobtrudeoneself，tomakeafuss，tobeself—concerned，whenwemightbeconcernedwithothers。\"
\"Monsieur，aufondweareallconcernedwithself。Toseemselflessisbutyourparticularwayofcultivatingtheperfectionofself。
Youadmitthatnottoobtrudeselfisthewaytoperfectyourself。
Ehbien！Whatisthatbutadeeperconcernwithself？Tobefreeofthis，thereisnowaybuttoforgetallaboutoneselfinwhatoneisdoing，asIforgeteverythingwhenIampainting。But，\"headded，withasuddensmile，\"youwouldnotwishtoforgettheperfectingofself——itwouldnotberightinyourprofession。SoImusttakeawaythispicture，mustInot？Itisoneofmybestworks:Iregretmuchnottohavefinishedit。\"
\"Someday，perhaps——\"
\"Someday！Thepicturewillstandstill，butmademoisellewillnot。
Shewillrushatsomething，andbehold！thisfacewillbegone。No;
Iprefertokeepitasitis。Ithastruthnow。\"Andliftingdownthecanvas，hestooditagainstthewallandfoldeduptheeasel。
\"Bonsoir，monsieur，youhavebeenverygoodtome。\"HewrungPierson’shand;andhisfaceforamomentseemedalleyesandspirit。
\"Adieu！\"
\"Good—bye，\"Piersonmurmured。\"Godblessyou！\"
\"Idon’tknowifIhavegreatconfidenceinHim，\"repliedLavendie，\"butIshalleverrememberthatsogoodamanasyouhaswishedit。
Tomademoisellemydistinguishedsalutations，ifyouplease。Ifyouwillpermitme，Iwillcomebackformyotherthingsto—morrow。\"Andcarryingeaselandcanvas，hedeparted。
Piersonstayedintheolddrawing—room，waitingforGratiantocomein，andthinkingoverthepainter’swords。Hadhiseducationandpositionreallymadeitimpossibleforhimtobebrotherly？Wasthisthesecretoftheimpotencewhichhesometimesfelt;thereasonwhycharityandlovewerenotmorealiveintheheartsofhiscongregation？’GodknowsI’venoconsciousnessofhavingfeltmyselfsuperior，’hethought;’andyetIwouldbetrulyashamedtotellpeopleofmytroublesandofmystruggles。CanitbethatChrist，ifhewereonearth，wouldcountusPharisees，believingourselvesnotasothermen？ButsurelyitisnotasChristiansbutratherasgentlementhatwekeepourselvestoourselves。Officers，hecalledus。Ifear——Ifearitistrue。’Ah，well！Therewouldnotbemanymoredaysnow。Hewouldlearnouttherehowtoopentheheartsofothers，andhisown。Sufferinganddeathlevelledallbarriers，madeallmenbrothers。HewasstillsittingtherewhenGratiancamein;
andtakingherhand，hesaid:
\"NoelhasgonedowntoGeorge，andIwantyoutogettransferredandgotothem，Gracie。I’mgivinguptheparishandaskingforachaplaincy。\"
\"Givingup？Afterallthistime？IsitbecauseofNollie？\"
\"No，Ithinknot;Ithinkthetimehascome。Ifeelmyworkhereisbarren。\"
\"Oh，no！Andevenifitis，it’sonlybecause——\"
Piersonsmiled。\"Becauseofwhat，Gracie？\"
\"Dad，it’swhatI’vefeltinmyself。Wewanttothinkanddecidethingsforourselves，wewanttoownourconsciences，wecan’ttakethingsatsecond—handanylonger。\"
Pierson’sfacedarkened。\"Ah！\"hesaid，\"tohavelostfaithisagrievousthing。\"
\"We’regainingcharity，\"criedGratian。
\"Thetwothingsarenotopposed，mydear。\"
\"Notintheory;butinpracticeIthinktheyoftenare。Oh，Dad！
youlooksotired。Haveyoureallymadeupyourmind？Won’tyoufeellost？\"
\"Foralittle。Ishallfindmyself，outthere。\"
ButthelookonhisfacewastoomuchforGratian’scomposure，andsheturnedaway。
Piersonwentdowntohisstudytowritehisletterofresignation。
Sittingbeforethatblanksheetofpaper，herealisedtothefullhowstronglyhehadresentedthepubliccondemnationpassedonhisownfleshandblood，howmuchhisactionwastheexpressionofapurelymundanechampionshipofhisdaughter;ofamundanemortification。
’Pride，’hethought。’OughtItostayandconquerit？’Twicehesethispendown，twicetookitupagain。Hecouldnotconquerit。Tostaywherehewasnotwanted，onasortofsufferance——never！Andwhilehesatbeforethatemptysheetofpaperhetriedtodothehardestthingamancando——toseehimselfasothersseehim;andmetwithsuchsuccessasonemightexpect——harkingatoncetotheverdicts，notofothersatall，butofhisownconscience;andcomingsoontothatperpetualgnawingsensewhichhadpossessedhimeversincethewarbegan，thatitwashisdutytobedead。Thisfeelingthattobealivewasunworthyofhimwhensomanyofhisflockhadmadethelastsacrifice，wasreinforcedbyhisdomestictragedyandthebitterdisillusionmentithadbrought。Asenseofhavinglostcasteweighedonhim，whilehesattherewithhispastrecedingfromhim，dustyandunreal。Hehadthequeerestfeelingofhisoldlifefallingfromhim，droppingroundhisfeetliketheoutwornscalesofaserpent，rungafterrungoftasksanddutiesperformeddayafterday，yearafteryear。Hadtheyeverbeenquitereal？Well，hehadshedthemnow，andwastomoveoutintolifeilluminedbythegreatreality—death！Andtakinguphispen，hewrotehisresignation。
XI
ThelastSunday，sunnyandbright！Thoughhedidnotaskhertogo，GratianwenttoeveryServicethatday。Andthesightofher，afterthislonginterval，intheiroldpew，whereoncehehadbeenwonttoseehiswife’sface，anddrawrefreshmenttherefrom，affectedPiersonmorethananythingelse。Hehadtoldnooneofhiscomingdeparture，shrinkingfromthefalsityandsuppressionwhichmustunderlieeveryallusionandexpressionofregret。Inthelastminuteofhislastsermonhewouldtellthem！Hewentthroughthedayinasortofdream。Trulyproudandsensitive，underthissocialblight，heshrankfromallalike，madenoattempttosingleoutsupportersoradherentsfromthosewhohadfallenaway。Heknewtherewouldbesome，perhapsmany，seriouslygrievedthathewasgoing;buttotryandrealisewhotheywere，toweightheminthescalesagainsttherestandsoforth，wasquiteagainsthisnature。Itwasallornothing。Butwhenforthelasttimeofallthosehundreds，hemountedthestepsofhisdarkpulpit，heshowednotraceoffinality，didnotperhapsevenfeelityet。Forsobeautifulasummereveningthecongregationwaslarge。Inspiteofallreticence，rumourwasbusyandcuriositystillrife。Thewritersoftheletters，anonymousandotherwise，hadspentaweek，notindeedinproclaimingwhattheyhaddone，butinjustifyingtothemselvesthesecretfactthattheyhaddoneit。AndthiswasbestachievedbyspeakingtotheirneighboursoftheseriousandawkwardsituationofthepoorVicar。
Theresultwasvisibleinabetterattendancethanhadbeenseensincesummer—timebegan。
Piersonhadneverbeenagreatpreacher，hisvoicelackedresonanceandpliancy，histhoughtbreadthandbuoyancy，andhewasnotfreefrom，thesing—songwhichmarstheutteranceofmanywhohavetospeakprofessionally。Buthealwaysmadeanimpressionofgoodnessandsincerity。OnthislastSundayeveninghepreachedagainthefirstsermonhehadeverpreachedfromthatpulpit，freshfromthehoneymoonwithhisyoungwife。\"Solomoninallhisglorywasnotarrayedlikeoneofthese。\"Itlackednowthehappyfervourofthatmosthappyofallhisdays，yetgainedpoignancy，comingfromsowornafaceandvoice。Gratian，whoknewthathewasgoingtoendwithhisfarewell，wasinachokeofemotionlongbeforehecametoit。
Shesatwinkingawayhertears，andnottillhepaused，forsolongthatshethoughthisstrengthhadfailed，didshelookup。Hewasleaningalittleforward，seemingtoseenothing;buthishands，graspingthepulpit’sedge，werequivering。TherewasdeepsilenceintheChurch，forthelookofhisfaceandfigurewasstrange，eventoGratian。Whenhislipspartedagaintospeak，amistcoveredhereyes，andshelostsightofhim。
\"Friends，Iamleavingyou;thesearethelastwordsIshalleverspeakinthisplace。Igotootherwork。Youhavebeenverygoodtome。Godhasbeenverygoodtome。IpraywithmywholeheartthatHemayblessyouall。Amen！Amen！\"
Themistclearedintotears，andshecouldseehimagaingazingdownather。Wasitather？Hewassurelyseeingsomething——somevisionsweeterthanreality，somethinghelovedmoredearly。Shefellonherknees，andburiedherfaceinherhand。Allthroughthehymnsheknelt，andthroughhisclearslowBenediction:\"ThepeaceofGod，whichpassethallunderstanding，keepyourheartsandmindsintheknowledgeandloveofGod，andofhisSonJesusChristourLord;andtheblessingofGodAlmighty，theFather，theSon，andtheHolyGhost，beamongstyouandremainwithyoualways。\"Andstillsheknelton;tillshewasaloneintheChurch。Thensheroseandstolehome。Hedidnotcomein;shedidnotexpecthim。’It’sover，’shekeptthinking;’allover。MybelovedDaddy！Nowhehasnohome;
NollieandIhavepulledhimdown。AndyetIcouldn’thelpit，andperhapsshecouldn’t。PoorNollie！……’
2
Piersonhadstayedinthevestry，talkingwithhischoirandwardens;
therewasnohitch，forhisresignationhadbeenaccepted，andhehadarrangedwithafriendtocarryontillthenewVicarwasappointed。
WhentheyweregonehewentbackintotheemptyChurch，andmountedtotheorgan—loft。Alittlewindowuptherewasopen，andhestoodleaningagainstthestone，lookingout，restinghiswholebeing。
Onlynowthatitwasoverdidheknowwhatstresshehadbeenthrough。Sparrowswerechirping，butsoundoftraffichadalmostceased，inthatquietSundayhouroftheeveningmeal。Finished！
Incrediblethathewouldnevercomeuphereagain，neverseethoseroof—lines，thatcornerofSquareGarden，andhearthisfamiliarchirpingofthesparrows。Hesatdownattheorganandbegantoplay。Thelasttimethesoundwouldrolloutandecho’roundtheemptiedHouseofGod。Foralongtimeheplayed，whilethebuildingdarkenedslowlydowntherebelowhim。Ofallthathewouldleave，hewouldmissthismost——therighttocomeandplayhereinthedarkeningChurch，toreleaseemotionalsoundinthisdimemptyspacegrowingevermorebeautiful。Fromchordtochordhelethimselfgodeeperanddeeperintothesurgeandswellofthosesoundwaves，losingallsenseofactuality，tillthemusicandthewholedarkbuildingwerefusedinonerapturoussolemnity。AwaydowntherethedarknesscreptovertheChurch，tillthepews，thealtar—allwasinvisible，savethecolumns;andthewalls。HebeganplayinghisfavouriteslowmovementfromBeethoven’sSeventhSymphony——kepttotheend，forthevisionsiteverbroughthim。Andacat，whichhadbeenstalkingthesparrows，creptinthroughthelittlewindow，andcrouched，startled，staringathimwithhergreeneyes。Heclosedtheorgan，wentquicklydown，andlockeduphisChurchforthelasttime。Itwaswarmeroutsidethanin，andlighter，fordaylightwasnotquitegone。Hemovedawayafewyards，andstoodlookingup。
Walls，buttresses，andspirewereclothedinmilkyshadowygrey。Thetopofthespireseemedtotouchastar。’Goodbye，myChurch！’hethought。’Good—bye，good—bye！’Hefelthisfacequiver;clenchedhisteeth，andturnedaway。
