Taffy could not; so Honoria obligingly went on hands and knees, and he stood on her back. “Can you see? What’s the matter?” Taffy gasped. “_He’s_ in there!” “What?--the Old Gentleman?” “Yes; no--your grandfather!” “What? Let me get up. Here, you kneel--” It was true. Under the rays of a paraffin lamp, in face of the kneeling congregation, sat Squire Moyle; his body stiffly upright on the bench, his jaws rigid, his eyes with horror in them fastened upon the very window through which Honoria peered--fastened, it seemed to her, upon her face. But, no; he saw nothing. The Bryanites were praying; Honoria saw their lips moving. Their eyes were all on the old man’s face. In the straining silence his mouth opened--but only for a moment--while his tongue wetted his parched lips. A man by the pulpit-stairs shuffled his feet. A sigh passed through the Chapel as he rose and relaxed the tension. It was Jacky Pascoe. He stepped up to the Squire, and, laying a hand on his shoulder, said, gently, persuasively, yet so clearly that Honoria could hear every word: “Try, brother. Keep on trying. O, I’ve knowed cases--You can never tell how near salvation is. One minute the heart’s like a stone, and the next maybe ’tis melted and singing like fat in a pan. ’Tis working! ’tis working!” The congregation broke out with cries: “Amen!” “Glory, glory!” The Squire’s lips moved and he muttered something. But stony despair sat in his eyes. “Ay, glory, glory! You’ve been a doubter, and you doubt no longer. Soon you’ll be a shouter. Man, you’ll dance like as David danced before the Ark! You’ll feel it in your toes! Come along, friends, while he’s resting a minute! Sing all together--oh, the blessed peace of it!-- “‘I long to be there, His glory to share--’” He pitched the note, and the congregation took up the second line with a rolling, gathering volume of song. It broke on the night like the footfall of a regiment at charge. Honoria scrambled off Taffy’s back, and the two slipped away to the high road. “Shall you tell your father?” “I--I don’t know.” She stooped and found a loose stone. “He shan’t find salvation to-night,” she said heroically. As the stone crashed through the window the two children pelted off. They ran on the soft turf by the wayside, and only halted to listen when they reached Tredinnis’s great gates. The sound of feet running far up the road set them off again, but now in opposite ways. Honoria sped down the avenue, and Taffy headed for the Parsonage, across the towans. Ordinarily this road at night would have been full of terrors for him; but now the fear at his heels kept him going, while his heart thumped on his ribs. He was just beginning to feel secure, when he blundered against a dark figure which seemed to rise straight out of the night. “Hullo!” Blessed voice! The wayfarer was his own father. “Taffy! I thought you were home an hour ago. Where on earth have you been?”