ars
in a tide of sound that swept unresisted through the wide spaces of the
cathedral.

As the echoing song grew fainter, and ebbed away into the twilight
shadows, my gaze returned to my immediate surroundings, and rested
unconcernedly upon a man sitting a seat or two in front of me, beside
one of the massive piers. He seemed to be in a most distressed and
nervous condition, for he peered about him with an evident alarm, which
was pitiful to witness. As he turned his face about I saw it was haggard
with fear and sorrow, or remorse; his hair was matted, and beads of
sweat were thick upon his brow.

It was as if he were terrified of impending danger. Yet what could he be
afraid of in the great calm of the solemn cathedral? The benediction had
been given, and the sparse congregation had now risen and was slowly
departing, yet he rose not, but seemed to be hiding from view as he
crouched behind the form in front of him, and edged his way slowly
within the shadow of the heavy pier to his left hand.

I sat on listening to the voluntary, and it held me by its strangeness.
I knew that the Dean and Chapter's organist was away on holiday, and I
wondered who the strange player might be who was setting forth his own
soul in the notes of the pealing organ. He sang of fellowship, of
comradeship in ancient days through stress of adventure and deadly
combat; then with organ sobs that shook the heart, of death and the
infinite loneliness of death, and of the inappeasable sorrow of the
survivor lamenting his Jonathan. A pause of black silence. Then brokenly
a little sough of life began to re-arise--a growth of hope--the fierce
determination of revenge--quickening with flame--breaking into triumph.

And now as the lights were being turned out, and gloom came rushing in
upon the empty spaces of the cathedral I saw the unhappy figure shift
indecisively as he rose from his seat in front of me, glance hurriedly
about as if for a way of escape, then moving unsteadily round the pier,
to my surprise he shuffled off in the direction of the organ. The music
seemed to fascinate him, to paralyse his will, even as the sphex
paralyses its victim with its sting.

The organist was now engaged upon the coda of his fugue; the former
motifs were rehearsed--love, sorrow, and revenge. Triumph resounded from
the loft when I heard above the quickening notes a sudden patter of
heels across the nave; then a pitiful drumming of fists upon the barred
door th