her and a little child--will never
away from me. I know not why nor how, but they made me think of another
winter night, when there was no room for our Lady and her holy Child
among men on earth. Oh take away those faces! I can bear no more."

"Did they look angrily at thee?"

"Angry! I tell you they were like the angels. I was pushing them out
at the gate--I never thought of any thing but getting rid of heretics--
when she turned, and the child looked up on me--such a look! I shall
behold it till I die, if you cannot rid me of it."

"My power extends not to angels," replied Haldane.

"Can you do nought for me, then?" he asked in hopeless accents. "Must I
feel for ever as Herod the King felt, when he had destroyed the holy
innocents? I am not worse than others--why should they torture me?"

"Punishment must always follow sin."

"Sin! Is it any sin to punish a heretic? Father Dolfin saith it is a
shining merit, because they are God's enemies, and destroy men's souls.
I have not sinned. It must be Satan that torments me thus; it can only
be he, since he is the father of heretics, and they go straight to him.
Can't you buy him off? I 'll give you any gold to get rid of those
faces! Save me from them if you can!"

"I cannot. I have no power in such a case as thine. Get thee to the
priest and shrive thee, thou miserable sinner, for thy help must come
from Heaven and not from earth."

"The priest! _Shrive_ me for obeying the Bishop, and bringing doom upon
the heretics! Nay, witch!--art thou so far gone down the black road
that thou reckonest such good works to be sins?"

And the sumner laughed bitterly.

"It is thy confession of sin wherewith I deal," answered Haldane
sternly. "It is thy conscience, not mine, whereon it lieth heavy. Who
is it that goeth down the black road--the man that cannot rest for the
haunting of dead faces, or the poor, harmless, old woman, that bade him
seek peace from the Church of God?"

"The Church would never set that matter right," said the sumner, half
sullenly, as he rose to depart.

"Then there is but one other hope for thee," said a clear low voice from
some unseen place: "get thee to Him who is the very Head of the Church
of God, and who died for thee and for all Christian men."

The sumner crossed himself several times over, not waiting for the end
of one performance before he began another.

"Dame Mary, have mercy on us!" he cried; "was that an angel that