you have done so much, for me, for all of us, for
everyone you have ever had to do with. Don't speak so; it isn't true, it
hasn't been a failure. You are the only person I have met who has showed me
what goodness really is."

Father Payne pressed my arm, but he did not speak for a moment.

"You are very good to me, old man," he said in a moment. "I was not trying
to get a testimonial out of you, you know; and of course you can't judge
how far I have fallen short of all I might have done. But your affection
and your kindness are very precious to me. You give me a message from God!
It matters little how near the truth you are or how far away. God doesn't
think of that. He isn't a hard reckoner; He's only glad when we return to
Him, and put down our tired head upon His shoulder for a little. But even
so, that isn't the end. As soon as we are strong again, we must begin
again. There's plenty left to do. The battle isn't over because you or I
are tired. He is tired Himself, I dare say. But it all goes on, and there
is victory ahead. Don't forget that, dear boy. It's no good being
heart-broken or worn out. Rise and fight again as soon as you can. I'm
quite ready--I haven't had enough. I have had an easy post, I don't deny
that. I have suffered very little, as suffering goes; and I'm grateful for
that; but we mustn't fall in love with rest. If we sleep, it is only that
we may rise refreshed, and go off again singing. We mustn't be afraid of
weakness and suffering, and we mustn't be afraid of joy and strength
either. That's treachery, you know."

Presently he said, "Now you must leave me here a little! You came in the
nick of time, and you brought me a message. It always comes, if you ask for
it! And I shall say a prayer for the Little Master himself, as Sintram
called him, before I go. He has his points, you know. He is uncommonly
shrewd and tenacious and brave. He's fighting for his life, and I pity him
whenever he suspects--and it must be pretty often--that things are not
going his way. I don't despair of the old fellow himself, if I may say so.
I suspect him of a sense of humour. I can't help thinking he will
capitulate and cut his losses some day, and then we shall get things right
in a trice. He will be conquered, and perhaps convinced; but he won't be
used vindictively, whatever happens. My knowledge of that, and of the fact
that he has got defeat ahead of him, and knows it, is the best defence
against him, even when i