was so full of happiness that she did not notice the minister was
very silent and preoccupied. After a little, he said, "Margaret, I
must go now to Tulloch; it has come to the last."

"Well, then, I think he will be glad. He has suffered long and
sorely."

"Yet a little while ago he was full of life, eager for money,
impatient of all who opposed him. Thou knowest how hard it often was
to keep peace between him and thy father. Now he has forgotten the
things that once so pleased him; his gold, his houses, his boats, his
business, have dropped from his heart, as the toys drop from the hand
of a sleepy child."

"Father went to see him a week ago."

"There is perfect peace between them now. Thy father kissed him when
they said 'good-by.' When they meet again, they will have forgotten
all the bitterness, they will remember only that they lived in the
same town, and worshiped in the same church, and were companions in
the same life. This morning we are going to eat together the holy
bread; come thou with me."

As they walked through the town the minister spoke to a group of
fishers, and four from among them silently followed him. Tulloch was
still in his chair, and his three servants stood beside him. The table
was spread, the bread was broken, and, with prayers and tears, the
little company ate it together. Then they bade each other farewell, a
farewell tranquil and a little sad--said simply, and without much
speaking. Soon afterward Tulloch closed his eyes and the minister and
Margaret watched silently beside him. Only once again the dying man
spoke. He appeared to be sleeping heavily, but his lips suddenly moved
and he said: "We shall see Nanna to-morrow!"

"We!" whispered Margaret. "Whom does he mean?"

"One whom we can not see; one who knows the constellations, and has
come to take him to his God."

Just at sunset a flash of strange light transfigured for a moment the
pallor of his face; he opened wide his blue eyes, and standing erect,
bowed his head in an untranslatable wonder and joy. It was the moment
of release, and the weary body fell backward, deserted and dead, into
the minister's arms.

During the few months previous to his death, Tulloch had been much in
every one's heart and on every one's tongue. There had not been a
gathering of any kind in which his name had not been the prominent
one; in some way or other, he had come into many lives. His death made
a general mourning, especially among the fis