also held naught save an empty gown—a very lovely robe, sacred and precious, because worn by her, but nothing more. “Miriam, belovèd! Do you smile to see us standing here in our trappings of woe? Can you look back through that open door by which you passed into the radiance of Eternity, and see this little patch of Time, and mark the pomp and ceremony with which your worn-out garment is laid to rest beside mine? Do you see your husband, as he stands looking down upon his own coffin? And do you understand how strange is the experience, one through which probably no other man has ever passed?” =The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Ghost, be with us all evermore.= _Amen._ It was over at last, that tenderest of all the sacred services in the great Church’s Liturgy. Living and Dead were alike dismissed with those comprehensive words of grace, love, and fellowship; the threefold blessing of the Triune God. SCENE XVI “WHO WAS HE?” Colin and Eva walked down the hill together, sympathetic friends and humble dependents standing aside to let them pass. They talked in low voices, decorously; but the sense of relief from tension which follows on a funeral, shewed in their brightening faces, as they turned with undisguised pleasure toward the beautiful house which was now their own possession. “Colin, I know why that man’s face seemed familiar to me. You remember I whispered to you when we noticed him in the church, that I was certain I had seen him before?” “Well? Had you?” “No. But—it’s very curious. Just as we turned from the grave—you saw how he stood gazing down at the coffins?—he looked up, and his eyes met mine. Then I remembered. He is extraordinarily like the photographs of my father.” “Could he be a relation?” “Not that I know of. My father was an only child, and I never heard of cousins.” “Well, we can tell Thomas to find out who he is. I say, dear! Won’t tea be nice! Let’s have it in the Oak Room. I shall make that my smoking-room, if you have no objection.” SCENE XVII IN THE PINE WOOD Luke Sparrow strode through the pine woods, taking a short cut from the churchyard back to the inn. His train for the south, left in an hour. Hurrying footsteps came behind him. At first he took them for an echo of his own; then realised that he was being followed, and walked the faster. He had no wish to be accosted. “Sir Nigel! Sir Nigel!” He stopped and turned sharply. Old Thomas, breathless, in deepest black, was hastening down the stony path. “Your pardon, Sir Nigel. May I speak with you?” “What is it, old friend?”