This good man, who had given his vigorous life and active intellect to God, knelt humbly at his study table while a joy and happiness not of this earth filled all his soul. At that supreme moment, when the sense of the glorious vindication of Christ flooded the priest's whole being with ecstasy, he knew, perhaps, a faint foreshadowing of the life the Blessed live in Heaven. For a few brief moments that imperfect instrument, the human body, was permitted a glimpse, a flash of the eternal joy prepared for the saints of God. The vicar drew very near the Veil. Helena beat at the door; he opened to her, the tall, gracious lady. She saw the news in her father's face. They embraced with deep and silent emotion. * * * * * Two hours later the vicarage was full of people. The news had arrived. Special editions of the evening papers were being shouted through the streets. Downing Street had spoken, and in Manchester--as in almost every great city in England--the Truth was pulsing and throbbing in the air, spreading from house to house, from heart to heart. Every one knew it in Walktown now. There was a sudden unanimous rush of people to the vicarage. Each big, luxurious house all round sent out its eager owners into the night. They came to show the pastor, who had not failed them in the darkness, their joy and gratitude now that light had come at last. How warm and hearty these North-country people were! Mr. Byars had never penetrated so deeply beneath the somewhat forbidding crust of manner and surface-hardness before. Mingled with the sense of shame and misery at their own lukewarmness, there was a fine and genuine desire to show the vicar how they honoured him for his steadfastness. "You've been an example to all of us, vicar," said a hard-faced, brassy-voiced cotton-spinner, a kindly light in his eyes, his lips somewhat tremulous. "We haven't done as we ought to by t' church," said another, "but you'll see that altered, Mr. Byars. Eh! but our faith has been weak! There'll be many a Christian's heart full of shame and sorrow for the past months this night, I'm thinking." They crowded round him, this knot of expensively dressed people, hard-faced and harsh-spoken, with a warmth and contrition which moved the old man inexpressibly. Never before had he been so near to them. Dimly he began to think he saw a wise and awful purpose of God, who had allowed this iniquity and calamity that the faith of the world might be strengthened. "We'll never forget what you've done for us, Mr. Byars." "If we've been lukewarm before, vicar, 't will be all boiling now!" "Praise God that He has spoken at last, and God forgive us for forgetting Him." The air was electric with love and praise. "Will you say a prayer, vicar?" asked one of the churchwardens. "It seems the time for prayer and a word or two like." The company knelt down.