fluence of
personal contact. His mere life, that he was there, on English soil,
within a measurable distance, had been to Elsmere in his darkest moments
one of his thoughts of refuge. At a time when a religion which can no
longer be believed clashes with a scepticism full of danger to conduct,
every such witness as Grey to the power of a new and coming truth holds
a special place in the hearts of men who can neither accept fairy tales,
nor reconcile themselves to a world without faith. The saintly life
grows to be a beacon, a witness. Men cling to it as they have always
clung to each other, to the visible and the tangible; as the elders of
Miletus, though the Way lay before them, clung to the man who had set
their feet therein, 'sorrowing most of all that they should see his face
no more.'

The accounts grew worse--all friends shut out, no possibility of last
words--the whole of Oxford moved and sorrowing. Then at last, on a
Friday, came the dreaded expected letter: 'He is gone! He died early
this morning, without pain, conscious almost to the end. He mentioned
several friends by name, you among them, during the night. The funeral
is to be on Tuesday. You will be here, of course.'

Sad and memorable day! By an untoward chance it fell in Commemoration
week, and Robert found the familiar streets teeming with life and noise,
under a showery uncertain sky, which every now and then would send the
bevies of lightly-gowned maidens, with their mothers and attendant
squires, skurrying for shelter, and leave the roofs and pavements
glistening. He walked up to St. Anselm's--found, as he expected, that
the first part of the service was to be in the chapel, the rest in the
cemetery, and then mounted the well-known staircase to Langham's rooms.
Langham was apparently in his bedroom. Lunch was on the table--the
familiar commons, the familiar toast-and-water. There, in a recess, were
the same splendid wall maps of Greece he had so often consulted after
lecture. There was the little case of coins, with the gold Alexanders he
had handled with so much covetous reverence at eighteen. Outside, the
irregular quadrangle with its dripping trees stretched before him; the
steps of the new Hall, now the shower was over, were crowded with gowned
figures. It might have been yesterday that he had stood in that room,
blushing with awkward pleasure under Mr. Grey's first salutation.

The bedroom door opened and Langham came in.

'Elsmere! But of c