Peter.  Brethren, ’tis the Comforter of which He spake! [A misty light fills the room.]

John.  Ah, ’tis He! ’tis He!  He is with us.  He has not forsaken us.  Verily, He has risen from the dead into a larger life than ever!  Dear Lord, Beloved Shepherd of Souls, is it Thou?

Thomas.  I believe, I believe!  It is past speech!  Thy Kingdom comes as I dreamed, but dared not believe!

John.  He lives, He lives—­the very Son of God!

  Behold the Kingdom that He promised us;
  ’Tis no vain dream, ’tis everlasting truth! 
  He shall bind all the nations into one,
  The love of him shall flood the world! 
  He shall conquer with love and gentleness, and not with the sword. 
  He shall live again in every heart that loves its fellow men. 
  Peace he will plant where discord grew before. 
  He will save and heal the souls of men forever and forever. 
  Ah, dear Master, forgive us, we beseech Thee,
  For deeming Thou hadst ever died.

* * * * *

And so, having nearly burnt a house down, and perhaps myself with it, I had written “finis” to my four-act play called Judas.

* * * * *

Hildreth and I had written faithfully to each other twice a day ... the absurd, foolish, improper letters that lovers exchange ...  I wrote most of my letters in the cave-language that we had invented between us....

And we marked all the interspaces with secret symbols that meant intimate caresses ... kisses ... everything....

The play brought to a successful end, I realised that for one day no letters had come from Hildreth.  And the next none came ... and the next....

I besieged the post office five and six times a day in a panic, till the postmaster first pitied me, then grew a bit put out....

A week, and not a single letter from the woman I loved....

The day before, Mrs. Suydam and her plumber affinity, for whom I felt myself and Hildreth and Penton largely responsible, in the example we had set—­the day before these two young people had committed suicide.

As I walked about the cottage, alone, I had the uncanny feeling that the place was haunted ... that maybe the ghosts of these two poor children who had imitated us were down there haunting me ... why had not Hildreth and I written that joint letter to them as I had suggested!

—­only a little thing, but it might have given them courage to go on!....

* * * * *

I was at the long-distance phone.

“Hildreth!” I cried, hearing her dear voice....

“Oh, how good, how sweet, my love, my life, it is to hear your voice again ... tell me you still love me!”

“Hush, Johnnie, hush!” answered a far-away, strange voice ...  “I’m writing you a long letter ... somebody might be listening in.”