Throughout this conversation speech had been becoming more and more painful to him. The last words were uttered in gasps of unconquerable agony, and a mortal spasm gave a terrible emphasis to this spiritual conviction. When it had passed he whispered faintly, "The pains of hell get hold on me--on my body, David; they cannot touch my soul. Lay me down now--at His feet--I can sit in my chair no longer." So David laid him in his bunk. "Shall I say _the words_ now--the words you marked, father?" he asked. "Ay; the hour has come." Then David knelt down and put his young, fresh face very close to the face of the dying man, and said solemnly and clearly in his very ear the chosen words of trust: "When the waves of death compassed me; "When the sorrows of hell compassed me about, and the snares of death prevented me, "In my distress I called upon the Lord, and cried to my God: and he did hear my voice out of his temple, and my cry did enter into his ears." * * * * * "The sorrows of death compassed me, and the pains of hell gat hold upon me: I found trouble and sorrow. "Then called I upon the name of the Lord; O Lord, I beseech thee, deliver my soul.... "Return unto thy rest, O my soul; for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee. "For thou hast delivered my soul from death, mine eyes from tears, and my feet from falling.... "Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints." Here David ceased. It was evident that the mighty words were no longer necessary. A smile, such as is never seen on mortal face until the light of eternity falls upon it, illumined the gaunt, stern features, and the outlooking eyes flashed a moment in its radiance. A solemn calm, a certain pomp of conscious grandeur in his victory over death and the grave, encompassed the dying man, and gave to the prone figure a majestic significance. As far as this world was concerned, Liot Borson was a dead man. For two days he lingered on life's outermost shoal, but at sunrise the third morning he went silently away. It was full tide; the waves broke softly on the shingle, and the sea-birds on the lonely rocks were crying for their meat from God. Suddenly the sunshine filled the cabin, and David was aware of something more than the morning breeze coming through the wide-open door. A sense of lofty _presence_ filled the place. "It is the flitting," he said with a great awe; and he stood up with bowed head until a feeling of indescribable loneliness testified that the soul which had hitherto dwelt with him was gone away forever. He went then to the body. Death had given it dignity and grandeur. It was evident that in Liot's case the great change had meant victory and not defeat. Almost for the first time in his life David kissed his father. Then he went into Uig and told the minister, and said simply to his mates, "My father is dead." And they answered: