It was not for long that he left me alone, yet in those few minutes my whole life seemed to pass before me. Near me, above the well, were the old carved words of the promise I had once doubted. It had been too hard for me to make out when I was a child--it was too dark to read it now; yet even in this world it had been fulfilled. That cup of cold water given a life-time ago, had in no wise lost its reward. Cuthbert and Hildred had been happy. And for me, when I was left alone, God Himself drew nigh and was my Friend; though there had been some darkness on my way, the Light of lights, ever brightening, was shining on it. Thinking thus, I saw that a figure came towards me swiftly through the darkness. I took the hands she held out to me in my own, and heard her say, 'Willie, welcome home.' Just for a few moments the weight of years was lifted off our heads, and Hildred and I were boy and girl once more. We did not say much, nor did I stay long with her. I was content to have been near her, and to have listened to her voice. We parted presently, with a blessing spoken quietly, as befitted those who had once loved each other well, but whom God in His good providence had parted, and who never looked to meeting in this world again. And I went away. So the two faces I have loved the most, Hildred's and my mother's, never grew old for me, but shine on me still, and are for ever young, for ever fair. And I think that when I see them next they will be fairer yet, for they will have 'put on immortality.' CONCLUSION. _Lead kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom, Lead Thou me on. The night is dark, and I am far from home, Lead Thou me on._ * * * * * _O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till The night is gone, And with the morn those angel faces smile, Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile._ On the following morning Wandering Willie was astir betimes. He was bound for the farm-house where dwelt Roger's father--a good step, as he said to Lois, across the hills. It was not snowing when he started. The morning clouds were even touched with red, but there were others hanging low down, grey clouds with wind-frayed edges, that looked heavy still with snow. Lois went with the old man as far as the gate, over the path, where already, people coming and going, had beaten a track across the snow. There she parted from him. 'It makes me sad to see you going away alone,' she said, leaning over the gate, which he had already passed through, and holding his hand across it. 'It is good to be alone,' said Willie, quietly. 'But the journey will be so long--so toilsome.' 'Then, Lois, I shall sleep the sounder at the end,' answered the old man with a smile. 'Ah,' said Lois, 'you are tired already.'