Suddenly she rose and slipped out. I followed her, for there was an
odd, silent friendship between us, and I thought that I might help.
To my surprise she did not turn homewards, but down the Glen, and
there I saw that some one was waiting for her by the pine wood.
"I saw your sign, sir," she said, "and I guessed you brought news of
John. Oh, sir, tell me quick, is he safe?"

"He is safe," the stranger answered. I could not see His face, but
He seemed weary and far-travelled. It was His voice that made me
wonder. For as He said "safe," it was as a new word to me, so full
of healing and of peace that it laid to rest every fear of my unquiet
heart.

"And will he be home soon?" It was the mother who was speaking now.

"I have taken the dear lad home," answered the stranger. "His room
has been long prepared for him in my Father's house. He has fought a
good fight. He was wounded, but his wounds are healed. He was weary,
but he has found rest." And so speaking He looked at us, and as the
mother clasped my hand I knew that the truth was breaking on her too.

"He is dead," she sobbed.

"No," said the stranger, "he is alive, for he has laid down his life
that he might take it again."

There was silence then, and the stranger turned to leave us. Even in
her grief the mourner was mindful of what was due to Him who had
taken upon Himself the burden of sorrowful tidings.