When we left the lighted room and stood on the doorstep, Donald
pointed to the darkness. "There iss no star, and you will be
remembering what John saw when the door opened and Judas went out.
'It wass night'--oh yes, it iss night for me, but it will be light
for them."

As weeks went past, and Donald was seen neither at Kirk nor market,
my heart went out to the lonely man in his soul conflict, and,
although there was no help in me, I went to ask how it fared with
him. After the footpath disentangled itself from the pine woods and
crossed the burn by two fir trees nailed together, it climbed a
steep ascent to Donald's house, but I had barely touched the foot,
when I saw him descending, his head in the air, and his face
shining. Before any words passed, I knew that the battle had been
fought and won.

"It wass last night, and I will be coming to tell you. Satan hass
gone like darkness when the sun ariseth, and I hef been delivered."

There are stories one cannot hear sitting, and so we paced the
meadow below, rich in primroses, with a sloping bank of gorse behind
us, and the pines before us, and the water breaking over the stones
at our feet.

"It is three weeks since I saw you, and all that time I hef been
wandering on the hill by day, and lying in the barn at night, for it
wass not good to be with people, and Satan wass always saying to me,
Judas went to 'his own place.' My dog will lay his head on my knee,
and be sorry for me, and the dumb animals will be looking at me out