h bones, or a torture-pit where victims quiver out their souls
midst shrieks and groanings. And yet I could see nothing of which to be
afraid, and hear nothing save that soughing of invisible wings whereof I
have spoken. An empty chair, a pool of water, some walls and doors, and,
above, the quiet sky. What was there to fear in such things as these?
Still, so greatly did I fear that I sank to my knees and began to pray
once more, this time to the blessed Saviour himself, since I was sure
that none else could help me.

"When I looked up again the chair was no longer empty. Hugh, a man sat
in it, of whom I thought at first only one thing--that he must be very
strong, though not bigger than other men. Strength seemed to flow from
him. I should not have wondered if he had placed his hands upon the
massive sides of that stone chair and torn it asunder."

"What was he like, Father? Samson or Goliath?"

"I never saw either, son, so cannot say. But what was he like? Oh, I
cannot say that either, although still I see him in my heart. My mortal
lips will not tell the likeness of that man, perhaps because he seemed
to be like all men, and yet different from all. He had an iron brow,
beneath which shone deep, cold eyes. He was clean-shaven, or perchance
his face grew no hair. His lips were thick and still and his features
did not change like those of other men. He looked as though he could not
change; as though he had been thus for infinite ages, and yet remained
neither young nor old. As for his dress, he wore a cloak of flaming red,
such a cloak as your Eve loves to wear, and white sandals on his feet.
There was no covering on his shaven head, which gleamed like a skull.
His breast was naked, but across it hung one row of black jewels.
From the sheen of them I think they must have been pearls, which are
sometimes found of that colour in the East. He had no weapon nor staff,
and his hands hung down on either side of the chair.

"For a long while I watched him, but if he saw me he took no note. As
I watched I perceived that birds were coming to and leaving him in
countless numbers, and thought that it must be their wings which made
the constant soughing sound that filled all the still and dreadful air."

"What kind of birds were they, Father?"

"I am not sure, but I think doves; at least, their flight was straight
and swift like to that of doves. Yet of this I am not sure either,
since I saw each of them for but a second. As th