But as he went, there was a quiver of lip and flicker of eyelid, the lightening, as Cranky called it, was evidently gaining ground.  Herbert’s faint whisper was heard again—­“Jenny!”

“Dearest!”

“The Lord’s Prayer!”

She began,—­his fingers tightened on hers.  “Pray it for old Moy,” he said; and as she paused, scarce hearing or understanding, “He—­he wants it,” gasped Herbert.  “No!  One can’t pray it, without—­” another pause.  “Help me, Jenny.  Say it—­O Lord, who savedst us—­ forgive us.  Help us to forgive from our hearts that man his trespasses.  Amen.”

Jenny said it.  Herbert’s voice sank in the Amen.  He lay breathing in long gasps; but he thus breathed still when Julius came back, and Jenny told him that a few words had passed, adding—­

“Julius, I will say nothing bitter again.  God help me not to think it.”

Did Herbert hear?  Was that the reason of the calm which made the white wasted face so beautiful, and the strange soft cool hush throughout the room?

CHAPTER XXXIV Silver Hair

And how should I your true love know From another man?—­Friar of Orders Gray

“Please God, I can try again.”

Those were the words with which Herbert Bowater looked into his Rector’s face on awaking in the evening of that same December day from one of a series of sleeps, each sweeter and longer than the last, and which had borne him over the dreaded hours, without fever, and with strengthening pulse.

Julius had not ventured to leave the sick-room that whole day, and when at last he went home and sank into the chair opposite Terry, for the first time through all these weeks of trouble and tension, he burst into a flood of tears.

He had hardly made the startled lad understand that life, not death, had thus overcome him, when the door flew open, and in rushed Rosamond, crying, “Julius, Julius, come!  It is he or his ghost!”

“Who?  What?”

“It is your hair!  At Mrs. Douglas’s grave!  He’ll be gone!  Make haste—­make haste!”

He started up, letting her drag him along, but under protest.  “My dear, men do come to have hair like mine.”

“I tell you it was at our graves—­our own—­I touched him.  I had this wreath for Raymond, and there he was, with his hat off, at the railing close to Mrs. Douglas’s.  I thought his back was yours, and called your name, and he started, and I saw—­he had a white beard, but he was not old.  He just bowed, and then went off very fast by the other gate, towards Wil’sbro’.  I did call, ‘Wait, wait,’ but he didn’t seem to hear.  Oh, go, go, Julius!  Make haste!”

Infected by the wild hope, Julius hurried on the road where his wife had turned his face, almost deriding himself for obeying her, when he would probably only overtake some old family retainer; but as, under the arch of trees that overhung the road, he saw a figure in the moonlight, a thrill of recognition came over him as he marked the vigorous tread of the prime of life, and the white hair visible in the moonlight, together with something utterly indescribable, but which made him call out, “Archie!  Archie Douglas! wait for me!”