Piers went steadfastly on with the role he had assigned to himself.  He never by word or look reminded Avery of the compact between them.  He merely took her support for granted, and—­probably in consequence of this—­it never failed him.

The nurse declared him to be invaluable.  He always had a salutary effect upon her patient.  For even more than at the sight of Avery did Jeanie brighten at his coming, and she was always happy alone with him.  It even occurred to Avery sometimes that her presence was scarcely needed, so completely were they at one in understanding and sympathy.

One evening, entering the room unexpectedly, she found Piers on his knees beside the bed.  He rose instantly and made way for her in a fashion she could not ignore; but, though Jeanie greeted her with evident pleasure, it was obvious that for the moment she was not needed, and an odd little pang went through her with the knowledge.

Piers left the room almost immediately, and in a few moments they heard him at the piano downstairs.

“May I have the door open?” whispered Jeanie.

Avery opened it, and drawing up a chair sat down with her work at the bedside.

And then, slowly rolling forth, there came that wonderful music with which he had thrilled her soul at the very beginning of his courtship.

Wordless, magnificent, the great anthem swelled through the falling dusk, and like a vision the unutterable arose and possessed her soul.  Her eyes began to behold the Land that is very far off.

And then, throbbing through the wonder of that vision, she heard the coming of the vast procession.  It was like a dream, and yet it was wholly real.  As yet lost in distance, veiled in mystery, she heard the tread of the coming host.

Her hands were fast gripped together; she forgot all beside.  It was as if the eyes of her soul had been opened, and she looked upon the Infinite.  A voice at her side began to speak, or was it the voice of her own heart?  It was only a whisper, but every word of it pierced her consciousness.  She listened with parted lips.

“I saw Heaven opened, and behold a white horse; and He that sat upon him was called Faithful and True ...  His Eyes were as a flame of fire and on His Head were many crowns....  And He was clothed with a vesture dipped in blood....  And the armies which were in Heaven followed Him upon white horses, clothed in fine linen, white and clean....  And He treadeth the wine-press....  He treadeth the wine-press....”

The voice paused.  Avery was listening with bated breath for more.  But it did not come at once.  Only the Veil began to lift, so that she saw the Opening Gates and the Glory behind them.

Then, and not till then, the dream-voice spoke again.  “Surely—­surely He hath borne our griefs, and carried—­our sorrows....  And the Lord hath laid on Him—­the iniquity of us all.”  The music crashed into wonder-chords such as Avery had never heard before, swelled to a climax that reached the Divine, held her quivering as it were upon wings in a space that was more transcendent than the highest mountain-top;—­then softly, strangely, died....