He grasped my hand and came in to the fire, but at first he could not
speak.

'Sir,' he said at last, in a broken voice, 'am I too late? Tell me the
truth, sir; don't hide it over like; is little John dead?'

'No, Duncan,' I said, 'he still lives, and he is asleep; and, Duncan, I
believe he will be given back to you.'

'Thank God!' he said; 'thank God for that!'

For just a moment a doubt crossed my mind as to whether I ought to give
him this hope, and yet I rebuked myself for this doubt, for I was
clinging to the promise, and the word of the Lord was sure, and I
believed that if what I asked was good for these poor souls it
_must_ be granted to me.

Duncan had now sat down in his arm-chair, and by the light of the fire I
could see that he was faint and exhausted. He leant back wearily for
some time and seemed unable to speak. I had left the kettle on the fire,
and I hastened to give him a cup of tea and something to eat.

Then I crept upstairs to see what was going on, but finding Polly and
little John were still both fast asleep, I came back to him. He was
better for the tea, and able to talk to me.

'I've had an awful time, sir,' he said, in answer to my inquiry. 'Many
and many's the time since I was a boy that I've been near the dark
valley, but this time, why, I think I've been half-way down it, sir.
How's my poor lass, sir?'