a matter of some importance on which I should like your opinion.”  At this the warder who was with him, a strong, stolid-looking man, with an expression at once slightly contemptuous and obviously kind, held up his hand and said, “You will, no doubt, sir, remember that you have undertaken—­” “Not a word, not a word,” said our friend; “of course you are right!  I have really nothing to say to these gentlemen.”

We went up to the building, which now became visible, with its long and stately front of stone.  Here again we were admitted with some precaution, and after a few minutes there came a tall and benevolent-looking man, to whom Amroth spoke at some length.  The man then came up to me, said that he was very glad to welcome me, and that he would be delighted to show us the place.

We went through fine and airy corridors, into which many doors, as of cells, opened.  Occasionally a man or a woman, attended by a male or a female warder, passed us.  The inmates had all the same kind of air—­a sort of amused dignity, which was very marked.  Presently our companion opened a door with his key and we went in.  It was a small, pleasantly-furnished room.  Some books, apparently of devotion, lay on the table.  There was a little kneeling-desk near the window, and the room had a half-monastic air about it.  When we entered, an elderly man, with a very serene face, was looking earnestly into the door of a cupboard in the wall, which he was holding open; there was, so far as I could see, nothing in the cupboard; but the inmate seemed to be struggling with an access of rather overpowering mirth.  He bowed to us.  Our conductor greeted him respectfully, and then said, “There is a stranger here who would like a little conversation with you, if you can spare the time.”

“By all means,” said the inmate, with a very ingratiating smile.  “It is very kind of him to call upon me, and my time is entirely at his disposal.”

Our conductor said to me that he and Amroth had some brief business to transact, and that they would call for me again in a moment.  The inmate bowed, and seemed almost impatient for them to depart.  He motioned me to a chair, and the moment they left us he began to talk with great animation.  He asked me if I was a new inmate, and when I said no, only a visitor, he looked at me compassionately, saying that he hoped I might some day attain to the privilege.  “This,” he said, “is the abode of final and lasting peace.  No one is admitted here unless his convictions are of the firmest and most ardent character; it is a reward for faithful service.  But as our time is short, I must tell you,” he said, “of a very curious experience I have had this very morning—­a spiritual experience of the most reassuring character.  You must know that I held a high official position in the religious world—­I will mention no details—­and I found at an early age, I am glad to say, the imperative necessity of forming absolutely impregnable convictions.