Now a mist brooded over the River, between those standing on the bank and the Shore beyond, and so Edred was lost to my sight. Alwin stood long looking after him, with tear-dimmed eyes; but by-and-by he turned once more to the Book in his hand, and as he read it I noticed that the sorrow passed away from his face. "A little while," he murmured to himself, and turned to go on his journey. But I saw that his road lay close to the River; and, or ever I was aware, I found he too had entered the water, and was actually crossing over to the bright Land. As the waters got deeper and deeper, his face only grew the more radiant, and when the mist almost hid him from my view, I heard a triumphant voice exclaiming, "Thanks be unto God for His unspeakable Gift." * * * * * Minnie's little head was laid on Agnes's lap during the narration of this dream, and she now raised it with an earnest look. "And that is _all_?" she said, sighing. "All, except that there is no _end_ to the Glory," replied Agnes. "No," said John, "I often think that is the best of Heaven--there will be no 'leaving-off' there." "That is just it," answered Agnes, "and the summing-up of all these Wordless pages--of Sin--Blood--Righteousness--Glory--seems to me to be expressed in these words, 'That ye might walk worthy of the Lord unto all pleasing.... Who hath made us meet to be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in light.'" [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER VII. _LAST DAYS._ "Isn't it awfully cold for you and mother to travel at this time of year, father?" asked Hugh as he buttoned up his warm great coat to set out for school for the last time before the Christmas holidays. "Very; but you see, my boy, urgent business calls me; and urgent necessity calls your mother." "Oh, yes! but I wish it were summer. Are you really going on Saturday?" "Yes, God willing." Hugh went into the hall, where he found his brother brushing his hat. "I wonder why father always adds 'God willing,'" he said in an undertone, "so few people do. Do you care about it, John?" "Well, I can't say that I've come to doing it myself," answered John candidly; "but I do feel this, Hugh, that when they're out on the Atlantic I'd rather know they had _felt_ it was 'God willing,' than that they should have acted on their own responsibility." Hugh whistled. "You ain't getting preachified I suppose, are you, John?" "No; but, all the same, I know when I think a thing's right." "So do I; leastways I know when I'm in the right, and that's generally!" "Or you think so." "Of course; comes to the same thing." Hugh had a pleasantly good opinion of himself, which often roused the ridicule and annoyance of his brother and sisters; and so before John was aware he found himself caught in an argument which was beginning to rasp his temper.