drew went before him to open the door of the sacristy. The lay
brother was crying audibly.

The sun was still shining in the courtyard, and the birds were still
singing and rejoicing. The first thing of which John was conscious was
that the dog was licking his rigid fingers.

A moment later he was in the little covered passage to the street, and
Brother Andrew was opening the iron gate.

"Good-bye, my lad!"

He stretched out his hand, then remembered that he was an excommunicated
man, and tried to draw it back; but the lay brother had snatched at it
and lifted it to his lips.

The dog was following him into the street.

"Go back, old friend."

He patted the old creature on the head, and Brother Andrew laid hold of
it by the loose skin at its neck. A hansom was waiting for him with his
trunk on the top.

"Victoria Square, Westminster," he called. The cab was moving off, when
there was a growl and a lurch--the dog had broken away and was running
after it.

How crowded the streets were! How deafening was the traffic! The church
bell was ringing for midday service. What a thin tinkle it made out
there, yet how deep was its boom within! Stock Exchange men with their
leisurely activity were going in by their seven doorways to their great
market place in Capel Court.

He began to feel a boundless relief. How his heart was beating! With what
a strange and deep emotion he found himself once more in the world!
Driving in the dense and devious thoroughfares was like sailing on a
cross sea outside a difficult headland. He could smell the brine and feel
the flick of the foam on his lips and cheeks. It was liberty, it was
life!

Feeling anxious about the dog, he drew up the cab for a moment. The
faithful creature was running under the driver's seat. Before the cab
could start again a line of sandwich men had passed in front of it. Their
boards contained a single word. The word was "GLORIA."

He saw it, yet it barely arrested his consciousness. Somehow it seemed
like an echo from the existence he had left behind.

The noises of life were as wine in his veins now. He was burning with
impatience to overtake his arrears of knowledge, to see what the world
had gone through in his absence. Leaning over the door of the hansom, he
read the names of the streets and the signs over the shops, and tried to
identify the houses which had been rebuilt and the thoroughfares which
had been altered. But the past was the past, and the