asked ye here to-night to tell ye how I went along the Damascus road and
cast my burden on the Lord.... He is not hard to deal with.... There's
beasts in us, all of us. They lift their heads out of us and jabber and
clamour at us; they tear at us with their claws, but if we throw
ourselves on God's strength He crushes the life out of the beasts. We
can do nothing till we stop fighting and lean on Him. He is kinder than
all our hopes, kinder than all our fears--"

His voice stopped with shot-like suddenness and his hands fell to his
side as he swayed. Marcella, Wullie and several others rushed to his
side. He fell, dragging the hunchback with him. His eyes, not blazing
now, but dimming as quickly as though veils had been drawn across them,
sought Marcella as he struggled for breath.

"Father--dear," she said, putting her arm under his grey head as Aunt
Janet walked across the room. "Dear--" she whispered, almost shyly, for
it was a word that she never used except in whispers to her mother.

"I knew we'd have a doing with ye, Andrew," said Aunt Janet, bending
stiffly in her satin frock. He could not hear. He looked at her and
turned to Marcella again.

"If ye--" he began, and suddenly felt very heavy on the girl's
supporting arm.

The people crept away talking quietly then. It seemed right that Andrew
Lashcairn had died in the midst of them all on All Souls' Night.