o its waxen fellows. As the chamber grew more and more brilliant,
the friar, standing with folded arms, made no motion to break the
profound stillness, but with the lighting of the last candle he thrust
far back the cowl that partly hid his countenance, then moved with an
even step to the table, and raising with both hands the great
candelabrum, held it aloft. The radiance that flooded him, showing every
line and lineament, was not more silvery white than the hair upon his
head; but brows and lashes were as deeply brown as the somewhat sunken
eyes, nor was the face an old man's face. It was lined, quiet,
beautiful, with lips somewhat too sternly patient and eyes too sad, for
all their kindly wisdom. The friar's gown could not disguise the form
beneath; the friar's sleeve, backfallen from the arm which held on high
the branching lights, disclosed deep scars.... Down-streaming light, the
hour, the stillness--a soul unsteadfast would have shrunk as from an
apparition. Nevil stood his ground, the table between him and his guest
of three years' burial from English ken. Both men were pale, but their
gaze did not waver. So earnestly did they regard each other, eyes
looking into eyes, that without words much knowledge of inner things
passed between them. At last, "Greet you well, Mortimer Ferne," came
from one, and from the other, "Greet you well, John Nevil."

The speaker lowered the candelabrum and set it upon the table. "You
might have spared the sergeant his pains. To-day I should have
sought you out."

"Why not before to-day?"

"I have been busy," said the other, simply. "Long ago the Indians taught
me a sure remedy for this fever. There was need down yonder for the
cure.... Moreover, pride and I have battled once again. To-night, in the
darkness, by God's grace, I won.... It is good to see thy face, to hear
thy voice, John Nevil."

The tall tapers gave so great and clear a light that there was no shadow
for either countenance. In Nevil's agitation had begun to gather, but
his opposite showed as yet only a certain worn majesty of peace.
Neither man had moved; each stood erect, with the heavy wood like a
judgment bar between them. Perhaps some noise among the soldiers below,
some memory that the other had entered the room as a prisoner, brought
such a fancy to Nevil's mind, for now he hastily left his position and
crossed to the bench beneath the wide window. The man from the grave of
the South-American forest followed.