our quarrels, our ticklish rights, our invincible prejudices, our vulgar enterprise and sluggish timidities, we have chattered and pecked one another and fouled the world--like daws in the temple, like unclean birds in the holy place of God. All my life has been foolishness and pettiness, gross pleasures and mean discretions--all. I am a meagre dark thing in this morning's glow, a penitence, a shame! And, but for God's mercy, I might have died this night--like that poor lad there--amidst the squalor of my sins! No more of this! No more of this!--whether the whole world has changed or no, matters nothing. We two have seen this dawn! . . ."

He paused.

"I will arise and go unto my Father," he began presently, "and I will say unto Him----"

His voice died away in an inaudible whisper. His hand tightened painfully on my shoulder and he rose. . . .