ran a long, low couch covered with soft,
well worn hides. On it lay a very long man, his limbs stretched out
awkwardly and unnaturally, showing that he had been dragged
unconscious to where he was. A candle stood on the low window ledge
and shone down full into the man's face.

At the head of the couch knelt a young girl, her arm supporting the
man's head and shoulder, her wildly tossed hair falling down across
his chest.

She was speaking to the man in a voice low and even, but so tense that
her whole slim body seemed to vibrate with every word. It was as
though her very soul came to the portals of her lips and shouted its
message to the man. The power of her voice, the breathless, compelling
strength of her soul need seemed to hold everything between heaven
and earth, as she pleaded to the man. The Bishop stood spellbound.

"Come back, Daddy Tom! Come back, My Father!" she was saying over and
over. "Come back, come back, Daddy Tom! It's not true! God doesn't
want you! He doesn't want to take you from Ruth! How could He! It's
not never true! A tree couldn't kill my Daddy Tom! Never, never! Why,
he's felled whole slopes of trees! Come back, Daddy Tom! Come back!"

For a time which he could not measure the Bishop stood listening to
the pleading of the girl's voice. But in reality he was not listening
to the sound. The girl was not merely speaking. She was fighting
bitterly with death. She was calling all the forces of love and life
to aid her in her struggle. She was following the soul of her loved
one down to the very door of death. She would pull him back out of the
very clutches of the unknown.

And the Bishop found that he was not merely listening to what the girl
said. He was going down with her into the dark lane. He was echoing
every word of her pleading. The force of her will and her prayer swept
him along so that with all the power of his heart and soul he prayed
for the man to open his eyes.

Suddenly the girl stopped. A great, terrible fear seemed to grip and
crush her, so that she cowered and hid her face against the big,
grizzled white head of the man, and cried out and sobbed in terror.

The Bishop crossed the room softly and touched the girl on the head,
saying:

"Do not give up yet, child. I once had some skill. Let me try."

The girl turned and looked up blankly at him. She did not question who
he was or whence he had come. She turned again and wrapped her arms
jealously about the head and sho