reature had ceased to have. I thought the old man, whom I
had brought into this danger, had gone mad with terror. I made a dash
round to the other side of the wall, half crazed myself with the
thought. He was standing where I had left him, his shadow thrown vague
and large upon the grass by the lantern which stood at his feet. I
lifted my own light to see his face as I rushed forward. He was very
pale, his eyes wet and glistening, his mouth quivering with parted
lips. He neither saw nor heard me. We that had gone through this
experience before, had crouched towards each other to get a little
strength to bear it. But he was not even aware that I was there. His
whole being seemed absorbed in anxiety and tenderness. He held out his
hands, which trembled, but it seemed to me with eagerness, not fear. He
went on speaking all the time. "Willie, if it is you,--and it's you, if
it is not a delusion of Satan,--Willie, lad! why come ye here frighting
them that know you not? Why came ye not to me?"

He seemed to wait for an answer. When his voice ceased, his countenance,
every line moving, continued to speak. Simson gave me another terrible
shock, stealing into the open door-way with his light, as much
awe-stricken, as wildly curious, as I. But the minister resumed, without
seeing Simson, speaking to some one else. His voice took a tone of
expostulation:--

"Is this right to come here? Your mother's gone with your name on her
lips. Do you think she would ever close her door on her own lad? Do ye
think the Lord will close the door, ye faint-hearted creature? No!--I
forbid ye! I forbid ye!" cried the old man. The sobbing voice had begun
to resume its cries. He made a step forward, calling out the last words
in a voice of command. "I forbid ye! Cry out no more to man. Go home, ye
wandering spirit! go home! Do you hear me?--me that christened ye, that
have struggled with ye, that have wrestled for ye with the Lord!" Here
the loud tones of his voice sank into tenderness. "And her too, poor
woman! poor woman! her you are calling upon. She's not here. You'll find
her with the Lord. Go there and seek her, not here. Do you hear me, lad?
go after her there. He'll let you in, though it's late. Man, take heart!
if you will lie and sob and greet, let it be at heaven's gate, and not
your poor mother's ruined door."

He stopped to get his breath; and the voice had stopped, not as it had
done before, when its time was exhausted and all its repe