treading lightly as if on air.

The ground seemed to spring beneath his feet. Already his life had
changed, he knew not how. Something that did not belong to him had
dropped away; he had returned to a former state of being. He felt as
if anything might happen to him, and he was ready for anything. He
was a new man, yet curiously familiar to himself--as if he had
done with playing a tiresome part and returned to his natural state.
He was buoyant and free, without a care, a doubt, a fear.

As he drew near to his father's house he saw a confusion of servants
in the porch, and the old steward ran down to meet him at the gate.

"Lord, we have been seeking you everywhere. The master is at the
point of death, and has sent for you. Since the sixth hour he calls
your name continually. Come to him quickly, lord, for I fear the
time is short."

Hermas entered the house at once; nothing could amaze him to-day.
His father lay on an ivory couch in the inmost chamber, with
shrunken face and restless eyes, his lean fingers picking
incessantly at the silken coverlet.

"My son!" he murmured; "Hermas, my son! It is good that you have
come back to me. I have missed you. I was wrong to send you away.
You shall never leave me again. You are my son, my heir. I have
changed everything. Hermas, my son, come nearer--close beside me.
Take my hand, my son!"

The young man obeyed, and, kneeling by the couch, gathered his