As they moved toward the door the two young people managed to pass out alone and Griffith took her in his arms for one brief instant and kissed her lips. "Thank God!" he whispered. "Thank God, for this last and holiest blessing! I love you next to my Saviour, Katherine. Sometimes I pray it may not be more than I love Him." She laughed, a soft little ripple, and drew back just as her father appeared at the door. "I shall not pray that," she said, as he mounted, and the young preacher rode away into the darkness with no disapproval of the heresy upon his radiant face. Selim knew that this was a strange proceeding--this late departure--and he shook his head so violently that the buckles of his bridle rattled. The young minister made no sign, but when, a little farther on, there suddenly arose over his back, the notes of a long-forgotten song, Selim cast one eye backward and started at the break-neck pace of his youth. "The moon is beaming brightly, love. Te tom te turn te te! A trusty crew is waiting, love, Away, away with me!" Selim's surprise knew no bounds. He had not beard that song since before the day his young master went, for some strange reason, into the Opquan river, with Brother Prout. Something unusual had happened, that was very clear. Something that carried the young preacher quite out of himself and into a world where sermons and hymns were not; and, although the song was gay, Selim felt a tag at his bridle that meant a slower pace. "Yea! old fellow, y-e-a!" Selim was surprised again. He stopped short. "G'ap! g'lang! "Far o'er the deep, o'er the deep, o'er the d e-e-o p, Far o'er the deep blue sea! Far o'er the deep, o'er the deep, o'er the d-o-o-o-p, Far o'er the deep blue sea! Oh, come and share a sailor's heart--for o'er the deep blue sea!" Perhaps Selim was not exactly scandalized, but he felt that it would not be judicious to reach the home of the quaint Methodist bonnet too prematurely. And Selim walked. CHAPTER V.--A man's conscience.