That journey with the curate was comfortable in itself, and a great comfort to me afterwards.  We could not but rejoice together over that Sunday, and Ben Yolland showed himself deeply struck with the simplicity and depth that had been revealed to him, the reality of whatever Harold said, and his manner of taking his dire disappointment as the just and natural outcome of his former life.  Many men would have been soured and driven back to evil by such a rejection.  Harold had made it the occasion of his most difficult victory and sharpest struggle; yet all the time he was unconscious how great a victory it was.  And so thorough was the penitence, so great the need of refreshment after the keen struggle for self-mastery, and so needful the pledge of pardon, that though he had never been confirmed, there was no doubt as to making him welcome at once to the Heavenly Feast.  Well that it was so!

The “What next” concerned Mr. Yolland as much as it did me.  He could not bear to think of relinquishing one who—­all unknown to himself—­ did more to guide and win the hearts of those Hydriots than teaching or sermons could ever do, and yet no one could advise Harold to remain after this winter.  In the reprieve, however, we both rejoiced, and Ben then added, “For my brother’s sake, especially.”

“Do you think the example tells on him?” I ventured on asking.

“I can hardly say it does,” was the answer.  “George used to point to Harold Alison as a specimen of a vigorous physical development so perfectly balanced as to be in a manner self-adjusting, without need of what he called imaginative influences.  I always thought he was a little staggered that evening that he had to summon you, Miss Alison, to his help; but he had some theory of sentiment to account for it, and managed, as people do, to put it aside.  Lately, however, he has been looking on, he says, with curiosity—­I believe with something more.  You see he reveres Alison for what he is, not for what he knows.”

“Of course not; your brother must know far more than Harold.”

“But the strength of character and will impresses him.  The bending of such a nature to faith, the acceptance of things spiritual, by one real, unimaginative and unsophisticated, and, above all, the self conquest, just where a great Greek hero would have failed, have certainly told on George, so that I see more hope than I have ever done before.”

So careful of me was Mr. Yolland, that he only parted with me at Randall Horsman’s door, where I was gladly welcomed by the master of the house, and found my poor little niece a grievous spectacle, and so miserable with the horrible illness, that she only showed her pleasure in my coming by fretting whenever anyone else touched her.

She had it badly in the natural form, but never was in immediate danger, and began in due time to recover.  I had ceased my daily telegrams, and had not been alarmed by some days’ intermission of Harold’s letters, for I knew that Dermot was at Arked alone, and that by this time the Yollands would be returned and my nephew would have less time to spend on me.