down
towards the river. A wild terror seized the girl. She flew down the
path and caught his arm. "Don, Don," she cried, "where are you going?"

He turned and looked down at her dully. Just then he was capable of
realising only that she was striving to turn him from his purpose.
"Let go!" he said savagely. "I killed him, I tell you!"

But Jessie clung to his arm desperately.

"Oh, Don," she sobbed, "come back to the house with me, please do come!"

The sight of her tears seemed to affect him. He stared at her as if a
gleam of comprehension had come to him. "Why do you want to stop me?"
he asked sullenly. "You don't care!"

The girl realised that this desperate situation was no time for false
pride. "Oh, Don," she whispered softly, "how can you say that, how can
you think it? You know I care, more than anyone!"

He ceased his resistance and stood a moment as if trying to understand.
Jessie was praying with all her heart for strength and wisdom to meet
and grapple with the despair that was driving him to destruction. She
turned and gently led him back to the gate, and as they went she spoke
to him as Jessie Hamilton could never have spoken had she not learned
through Duncan Polite's help the true meaning of all sorrow and
happiness, spoke to him of his mother, of his duty, of his God. It was
the hour of Donald's weakness and trial, when Satan desired to sift him
as wheat, an hour in which he might have fared ill had the woman who
loved him not stood by with her new strength. But it passed in
victory, and when at last he laid his head down upon the top of the
gate where they stood and convulsive sobs shook his frame, she knew
that he was saved.

The day was one of promising spring when they laid Duncan Polite beside
Mr. Cameron under the elms. The hepaticas were peeping out around his
covenant stone on the hilltop, the river was gay and smiling and all
the world seemed glad. And it was well, for an eternal springtime had
dawned for the old watchman of Glenoro.

When they carried him into the church for his last service the place
was packed to the doors. Everyone had come to do honour to the man who
had done so much for them. Even Coonie was there. He had hurried into
Glenoro, early, for the first time in his life. His shoulders drooped
more than ever, his wrinkled brown face was even unusually sullen, and
his small green eyes were filled with a fierce sorrow. Mr. Ansdell
preached the funeral se