ne arm,
showing her sorrow.

The priest knelt, touching here and there with skilful fingers.

"Is it not he whom men called Nicanor? Nay, daughter, weep not so
bitterly! Is it not the death he would have chosen, being man? We have
heard of him; we have seen that his power he hath striven to use for
good, so that many loved him; we have thought that in God's own time the
light would come upon him and he should be baptized into the Faith."

But Eldris broke in fiercely:

"Ye have heard--ye have seen--ye have thought--but can ye give him back
to me? I knew not your God was a cruel God; ye have taught that He is
the Father of all mercy and all love. What mercy is there in this that
He hath done? I am Christian, for I wished to seek love from that God
that is thy God; and this my love did I try to make Christian also. But
since God hath done this thing unto him and me, I am glad that he was
not Christian and hath not gone to God!"

Father Ambrose looked down upon her, smiling, and his face was holy.

"I think he was a better Christian than art thou, dear child, even
though he did not know it. Can one be Christian, for all he cries 'God,
God!' if he have not Christ within his heart as well as on his lips?
What is a Christian, save one who dealeth gently, liveth cleanly, giveth
of himself? And such an one, I think, whether he professeth all gods or
no god, will our Father call 'my son.' Long have I lived, and very much
have I seen, and I think that this is so."

He paused. Eldris's sobbing alone made answer.

"Daughter, thou sayest thou art glad he hath not gone to God. Loving
him, wouldst thou not rather think of him with God than wandering lonely
in the outer darkness?"

But Eldris flung out her hands with a bitter cry.

"Nay--nay--oh, Lord Christ, not that! I cannot bear to think he wanders
lonely, as all his life he hath been lonely--anything but that! What
have I said--what have I done! Oh, father, father, he must not be
lonely! Pray thou that God will take him, even though he did not know!
Dear God, let him into heaven--do not Thou be angered because he did not
know! Mary Mother, pity him and let him not be lonely any more!"

She stretched her hands in desolate appeal over the still face at her
knee. Father Ambrose gathered them into his.

"God hath taken him, dear child," he said gently. "Out of his darkness
hath he entered into light; and I think that it is well with him."

A long time he looked down at