“Oh, hush, carino! What is all that now? We have been like two children lost in the dark, mistaking one another for phantoms. Now we have found each other, and have come out into the light. My poor boy, how changed you are--how changed you are! You look as if all the ocean of the world's misery had passed over your head--you that used to be so full of the joy of life! Arthur, is it really you? I have dreamed so often that you had come back to me; and then have waked and seen the outer darkness staring in upon an empty place. How can I know I shall not wake again and find it all a dream? Give me something tangible--tell me how it all happened.” “It happened simply enough. I hid on a goods vessel, as stowaway, and got out to South America.” “And there?” “There I--lived, if you like to call it so, till--oh, I have seen something else besides theological seminaries since you used to teach me philosophy! You say you have dreamed of me--yes, and much! You say you have dreamed of me--yes, and I of you----” He broke off, shuddering. “Once,” he began again abruptly, “I was working at a mine in Ecuador----” “Not as a miner?” “No, as a miner's fag--odd-jobbing with the coolies. We had a barrack to sleep in at the pit's mouth; and one night--I had been ill, the same as lately, and carrying stones in the blazing sun--I must have got light-headed, for I saw you come in at the door-way. You were holding a crucifix like that one on the wall. You were praying, and brushed past me without turning. I cried out to you to help me--to give me poison or a knife--something to put an end to it all before I went mad. And you--ah------!” He drew one hand across his eyes. Montanelli was still clasping the other. “I saw in your face that you had heard, but you never looked round; you went on with your prayers. When you had finished, and kissed the crucifix, you glanced round and whispered: 'I am very sorry for you, Arthur; but I daren't show it; He would be angry.' And I looked at Him, and the wooden image was laughing. “Then, when I came to my senses, and saw the barrack and the coolies with their leprosy, I understood. I saw that you care more to curry favour with that devilish God of yours than to save me from any hell. And I have remembered that. I forgot just now when you touched me; I--have been ill, and I used to love you once. But there can be nothing between us but war, and war, and war. What do you want to hold my hand for? Can't you see that while you believe in your Jesus we can't be anything but enemies?” Montanelli bent his head and kissed the mutilated hand. “Arthur, how can I help believing in Him? If I have kept my faith through all these frightful years, how can I ever doubt Him any more, now that He has given you back to me? Remember, I thought I had killed you.” “You have that still to do.” “Arthur!” It was a cry of actual terror; but the Gadfly went on, unheeding: