negatives. You
mustn't break down now, you know, when the storm has passed and the sun
is beginning to shine." He held the door open and as we passed out his
face softened into a smile of infinite kindness. "You won't mind my
locking you out," said he; "this is a photographic dark-room at
present."

The key grated in the lock and we turned away into the dim gallery. It
was not quite dark, for a beam of moonlight filtered in here and there
through the blinds that covered the skylights. We walked on slowly,
her arm linked in mine, and for a while neither of us spoke. The great
rooms were very silent and peaceful and solemn. The hush, the
stillness, the mystery of the half-seen forms in the cases around, were
all in harmony with the deeply-felt sense of a great deliverance that
filled our hearts.

We had passed through into the next room before either of us broke the
silence. Insensibly our hands had crept together, and as they met and
clasped with mutual pressure, Ruth exclaimed: "How dreadful and tragic
it is! Poor, poor Uncle John! It seems as if he had come back from
the world of shadows to tell us of this awful thing. But, O God! what
a relief it is!"

She caught her breath in one or two quick sobs and pressed my hand
passionately.

"It is over, dearest," I said. "It is gone for ever. Nothing remains
but the memory of your sorrow and your noble courage and patience."

"I can't realize it yet," she murmured. "It has been like a frightful,
interminable dream."

"Let us put it away," said I, "and think only of the happy life that is
opening."

She made no reply, and only a quick catch in her breath, now and again,
told of the long agony that she had endured with such heroic calm.

We walked on slowly, scarcely disturbing the silence with our soft
footfalls, through the wide doorway into the second room. The vague
shapes of mummy-cases standing erect in the wall-cases, loomed out dim
and gigantic, silent watchers keeping their vigil with the memories of
untold centuries locked in their shadowy breasts. They were an awesome
company. Reverend survivors from a vanished world, they looked out
from the gloom of their abiding-place, but with no shade of menace or
of malice in their silent presence; rather with a solemn benison on the
fleeting creatures of to-day.

Half-way along the room a ghostly figure, somewhat aloof from its
companions, showed a dim, pallid blotch where its face would have been