d; and, in spite of the fact that He remained unseen,
His mere presence glorified and magnified the heavenly scene. The
light grew softer and yet more supremely radiant; hosts of angels
soared and hovered in vast spaces between the rolling clouds; a
vibrating echo of the divine pity swept like music far and near.

But the Holy Ghost brought forward a large strongly-bound volume,
opened it, and said very quietly, "Let Me show You what We have
against him in the book." And at sight of the book Dale shivered and
grew cold to the core of his spine. He knew perfectly well what was
entered in the book, and he thought, "It stands to reason They could
never get over _that_. I might have known all along _that_ would do
for me, an' there was no getting round it."

"This is his record," the voice of the implacable Judge continued;
"not what I have attributed to him as secret thought, but words taken
down as spoken by his own mouth. Having committed his crime, he had
the calm audacity--_to lay the blame on US_.... Yes, here is the
entry. This is the statement verbatim: 'It is the finger of God'."

And Christ seemed to plead in an agony of grief still strove to
lighten the punishment of the pitiful worm that he had deigned to call
His brother man. "Oh, he didn't mean it."

"He _said_ it," replied the Holy Ghost, dryly.

"But he didn't think what he was saying--he has been sorry for it ever
since."

"Yet, frankly," said the Holy Ghost, "I can not see that he has made
a single effort to put things straight, by removing the blame to the
proper quarter--that is, to himself."

Nevertheless, Christ still pleaded, could not be silenced, must go on
struggling to save this one man--because He was the Savior of all men,
because He was Christ. He was there, certainly, infallibly, although
quite invisible--He was there, kneeling at the feet of the other Two,
praying, weeping:--He was there, filling Heaven with inconsolable woe
because, although His myriad suns shone bright as when He lighted them
and His universe swung steady and true in His measureless void, one
microscopic speck of dirt only just big enough to hold immortal life
was in danger of eternal death.

All these imaginations were absolutely real to Dale, an approximate
conception of the truth which he could not doubt; and he thought:
"Need I wonder if I have not had the slightest glimpse of His face? It
is my doom. Christ is cut off from me. So far as human time counts,
the