John Grayson sprang to his feet, with a cry that made all the wounded round them turn on their mats and look up in wonder. He never even heard Gabriel's concluding word: "So, as I said, they are all now with Christ." But in another moment he was on the ground again beside him, his whole frame shaking with a storm of sobs--hoarse, heavy, uncontrollable,--surging up from the very depths of a strong man's soul. After the sobs came tears--tears again at last! No longer were the heavens iron and the earth brass; all the flood-gates were open now, and there was a very great rain. He knew nothing until Miss Celandine's firm, gentle hand was laid upon his shoulder. "My friend," she said, "I know not who you are, nor what your grief may be. But I cannot let you disturb all the others who are here. Especially, you are doing great harm to my patient beside you." "Don't you know me, Miss Celandine?" Jack faltered out, struggling for composure. "Don't you remember John Grayson?" "John Grayson! But he was a youth, and your hair is grey." "With anguish. But now I remember no more my anguish, for God has had mercy upon me. My Shushan is with Him." "Yes, we know it, and thank God for her." Chapter XXI "GOD SATISFIED AND EARTH UNDONE" "And if with milder anguish now I bear To think of thee in thy forsaken rest; If from my heart be lifted the despair, The sharp remorse with healing influence press'd, It is that Thou the sacrifice hast bless'd, And filled my spirit, in its inmost cell With a deep, chastened sense that all at last is well." John Grayson had been directed by Miss Celandine to go to the parlour where Shushan had bidden him farewell, and to wait for her there. It looked as if it had had many occupants since, and as if some of them were still in possession. Yet for the moment he was alone, a thing unusual in that crowded house. His heart was filled with a sense of unspeakable rest;--and, after rest, came thankfulness;--and with thankfulness a fresh burst of weeping, his tears growing ever gentler, ever softer and more full of healing. In those blessed tears he found again his hope and his God. Christ was no dream, but a living, loving Power, strong to save. He had been with his beloved one, and had delivered her. Once more, in the darkness, his hand touched that right Hand, so strong and so tender, which at once upholds the universe, and supports the failing heart of every tried and tempted "wrestler with the Spirit until the breaking of the day." So already the cross of Christ, laid upon both their heads, had been taken from Shushan's young brow, and she had received instead of it the crown of life! While he--who loved her, who would love her until his life's end--he had to bear it still. But it _was_ the cross of Christ, and not the brand of Cain. Not _that_. Never that again! Never more would he wander aimlessly amidst the dying and the dead,--