"They do," replied the old man. "'Come quickly' is the entreaty of all who love Him here and beyond the sea; but His time is best. And, meantime, have we forgotten the multitudes who are still deceived by the usurper, to whom the Black Ship is still a horrible end of all things, and the Veiled Form of the King of Terrors?" Hope rose and stood before the old man. "Mother," he said, "it is for this we must live. Think of the desolate hearts in the homes around us. Think of the thousands who know not our blessed secret in the White Town." The old man rose and laid his hand on Hope's head. "My King!" he said. "When wilt Thou come for me? Is not my work done? Will not this youthful voice speak for Thee here as my quivering tones no longer can? Wilt Thou not come? I have many dear ones with Thee; but when Thou wilt is best." Then he persuaded them all to lie down to rest, and he himself composed himself quietly to sleep. But in the night, a wondrous light filled the room—a wondrous light and fragrance. The mother woke, and the children, and they saw the old man standing, gazing towards the door, which was open. There stood a Veiled Form, dark to the mother's eyes as the dreaded form she knew too well; yet its presence filled the room with the light as of a rosy dawn, and the fragrance as of spring flowers. The old man's hair was silvery, and his form tottering as ever, but in his face there was the beauty of youth, and in his eyes the rapture of joy. "Farewell, my friends," he said; "your day of joy will come like this of mine. Thou art come for me at last—Thou thyself. I see Thy face, I hear Thy voice; I come—it is Thou." A hand was laid tenderly on his hand, and they walked away together into the night. But as the mother and children looked after him from the door, they saw the Black Ship, only at its prow was a star. And as it passed away, the mother, and Hope, and May thought it left a track of light upon the sea. The three had henceforth enough to live and suffer for. To the lonely fishermen's huts went May and her mother, into the White Town went Hope, and everywhere they bore their tidings of joy. They had much to suffer, and many mocked, and against them also the amulet-makers combined, and would not listen. But some did listen, and believe, and love, and to such, as to the mother, and Hope, and May, the Black Ship, instead of a phantom of terror, became a messenger of surpassing joy. The Ruined Temple. ————— THE Temple was in ruins, and the Priestess sat, a captive in chains, among its broken and scattered fragments.