He did not answer, it seemed to be no concern of his at all. He was now trembling it every limb, but his excitement had nothing to do with the game. It seemed to him that the earth and the sky were sharing his emotion am he could feel in the air a great exaltation. I was becoming literally true for him that earth air, sky were praising at this moment, in wonderful unison, some great presence. "All things betray Thee who betrayest Me. . . ." Now he understood what that line had intended him to feel--the very sods crushed by his boots were leading him to submission. The whistle sounded. His back now was turned to the white clouds; he was facing the high stone wall and the tops of the hansom cabs. The game began again. The Dublin men were determined to drive their advantage to victory. Another goal and their lead might settle, once and for all, the issue. Olva was standing back, listening. The earth was humming like a top. A voice seemed to be borne on the wind--"Coming, Coming, Coming." He felt that the clouds were spreading behind him and a little wind seemed to be whispering in the grass--"Coming, Coming, Coming." His very existence now was strung to a pitch of expectation. As in a dream he saw that a Dublin man with the ball had got clear away from the clump of Cambridge forwards, and was coming towards him. Behind him only was Lawrence. He flung himself at the man's knees, caught them, falling himself desperately forward. They both came crashing to the ground. It was a magnificent collar, and Olva, as he fell, heard, as though it were miles away, a rising shout, saw the sky bend down to him, saw the ball as it was jerked up rise for a moment into the air--was conscious that some one was running. 5 He was on his knees, alone, on the vast field that sloped a little towards the horizon. Before him the mountain clouds were now lit with a clear silver light so dazzling that his eyes were lowered. About him was a great silence. He was himself minute in size, a tiny, tiny bending figure. Many years passed. A great glory caught the colour from the sky and earth and held it like a veil before the cloud. In a voice of the most radiant happiness Olva cried-- "I have fled--I am caught--I am held . . . Lord, I submit." And for the second time he heard God's voice-- "My Son . . . My Son." He felt a touch--very gentle and tender--on his shoulder. 6 Many years had passed. He opened his eyes and saw the ball that had been rising, many years ago, now falling. The man whom he had collared was climbing to his feet; behind them men were bending down for a "scrum." The shout that he had heard when he had fallen was still lingering in the air. And yet many years had passed. "Hope you're not hurt," the Dublin man said. "Came down hard." "No, thanks, it's all right." Olva got on to his feet. Some one cried, "Well collared, Dune."