But the result was the same. After nearly three years of the outer darkness I had come once more into the light: I was at peace with Man and therefore with God: and that seemed to be all that signified. On myself I had no mercy. I could not forgive myself--I cannot forgive myself now--I never shall forgive myself. But that was a matter of no moment. Self-pardon is never the way of salvation. I knew--how I knew I cannot tell, but I did know it--that God had forgiven me: I believed from the depths of my heart that Fay, with the more perfect comprehension of those who are already on the Other Side, had forgiven me also: therefore my self-condemnation was no bar across the path of life, but rather a healthy and permanent discipline of the soul. With a joy beyond all earthly joy I rose and dressed and went out into the hazy autumn morning. It was Sunday: and as I stood in the grey mist which still lay over everything and which shrouded the garden and the fields from my view, I heard the church-bell ringing for the eight o'clock Celebration. And for the first time for more than two years that bell called to me, and bade me come and take my place at the Eucharistic Feast: for at last I was in love and charity with all men, and intended to lead a new life. I answered the Call and entered the Church which was hallowed by the worship of centuries: and there I made my confession to Almighty God, meekly kneeling upon my knees, as the pilgrims had knelt there ages and ages before me. And as in lowly adoration I partook of the Blessed Food Which Christ Himself had ordained, I thereby received Him into my heart by faith: and the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, once more filled my heart and mind with the knowledge and love of God and of His Son, Jesus Christ. And so I began life over again in that autumn morning in Restham Church, at the beginning of the Great War. I did not see Frank when I came home after the Service was over, as he never came down to breakfast: but as I sat at my solitary meal I knew no loneliness: the glory of the Great Reconciliation was about me still. After breakfast Jeavons came to me in a somewhat deprecating manner. "I am sorry to trouble you, Sir Reginald," he began, "and I told Maggie Pearson so, but she wouldn't take no, and begged me to come and give you her message." Maggie Pearson was the daughter of one of my keepers--a respectable man with a tidy wife and a large family. "And what was her message?" I asked.