seems to have to have something on something on his mind. Possibly-ahem-excuse me-there may have been little differences, and a few kind words from your Lordship might help to calm him. Sometimes in these cases everything turns on a point of that kind," and the Doctor coughed significantly. Dr. Lord Rotherhame made no reply. Pyke, beginning to apologise for his presumption, and to justify it on the ground of overmastering solicitude for his patient, turned his head. His companion was already gone. CHAPTER XII. The power of the Night, the press of the Storm, the post of the Foe. ROBERT BROWNING. Come flame, come torture for my sins! WALTER THORNBURY. THE pale midnight moon streamed coldly through the painted windows of the little chapel, and lay quivering on its ancient pavement. A faint fragrance from the white lilies beneath the Cross upon the Altar filled the air with mystic sweetness, and a beam, falling on a picture of the Virgin, encircled the large eyes, and calm fair face with an unearthly halo. The west end was shrouded in gloom. Stalls and organ loomed blackly through the darkness, and an air through the partially open door stirred the torn banners which streamed from the roof into a slow and ghostly motion. Before the Altar lay a man, his forehead on the cold stones, his spirit wrestling with the strong, unseen Angel of God. He had come hither to fight out in his own soul the eternal quarrel between Right and Wrong, and the issue of the battle he could not forecast. The life of God within, the Will of the Unseen Father, cannot be crushed out, or beaten under foot, by any single act of will, however concen trated. The soul of this man, after long conflict, had deliberately laid down its arms at Satan's feet. With Eternity before it, it had calmly, slowly, absolutely, though with profoundest sadness, chosen Time. Pride had triumphed over obedience, self over God. And in the misery of that deepest degradation, the yielding of freedom and eternal progress to the corrupting bondage of Evil,. the captive spirit had found a kind of peace; that peace of exhaustion which comes when fight is abandoned, and nought remains but to lie still and wait for Death. On a sudden all was changed. The Divine spark within him burned up clear and free, as though he had never tried to bury it beneath smothering dust and ashes; the chained will shook its fetters; the combat that had seemed to die, renewed itself more fiercely. Never before had a struggle so desperate raged within him, as this that now laid his body prostrate on the stones-for his late submission to the Tempter had weakened his will, and rendered more overwhelming the odds against him. Hemmed in, as it were, between fire and ocean, torture and despair, the old agony of choice was forced once more upon him with imperious and instant urgency. On either hand the encroaching elements pressed stealing each moment from limit, and leaving him less hour for action had struck! upon his path, its narrowing foothold. The This new tor ment of indecision warned him that even the cruel calm of despair could be purchased by deeds alone-that did he wish his God to cease from him, and to let him alone, that he might take comfort in lying quietly at the Devil's feet, he must no longer merely resolve on, but actually consummate his final breach with Heaven. Goaded thus to immediate action, he yet shrank back appalled. The tossing of Chaos sounded in his ears, the hurly of that wild Sea which obeys no Law and owns no God. Pausing on the brink, the Past came back upon him with something of its old power; the Past, when high hope and noble aspirations had filled his life with splendour. The spells of early love again allured him; voices called to him from a far-off land, where all was good; wife and first-born, the idols before whom he had long knelt, with a worship too supreme for any but their Maker, resumed their ancient sway over his heart. In his desperation he recognised that from the general wreck, one treasure might yet be saved; that, in return for his tardy submission to its laws, he might demand of Heaven his child's threatened life. His child! for whom love, long changed to gall, now cried out again with a craving thirst. His child! the pledge and seal of an ineffably sacred union, the most precious legacy of his precious dead. By what mysterious law did these claims, which he had believed strangled, revive at this moment, when to yield to them must imply treachery to later vows? He could not pause to ponder this problem. Enough that they had revived! Enough, that at any cost, to do their bidding might arrest the vengeful purpose menacing his son. It should be a barter with the Almighty! He would confess all, relinquishing to its last ounce his stolen gold, face exposure and imprisonment, bring dishonour on his guilty mother's name; worse than all! tear out and leave to bleed on life's dusty highway the heart that trusted in him, and this sacrifice should be repaid in kind! Ralph should live! Live! and be loved and happy! Would no voice answer him? No sign be given to show that the Great Ruler of Mankind had accepted the bargain? And then in the dead silence that mocked his suspense, the spirit of angry scorn awoke. Did Heaven think to intimidate him into becoming the machine to work out his own ruin-into lying tamely down in the dust of degradation, where men would tread him under foot-that in the end perchance it might cheat him of his payment? No! unless for certain results, the price was too great to pay! Before his mental vision rose all the small, debasing details of the criminal's detection; policemen, handcuffs, Scourging tongues, staring, gloating eyes! He saw himself standing in the Court of Justice, a prominent, solitary figure, exposed to glut the public curiosity! the air foul and |