Listen, Loskiel; you shall expect that signal between midnight of Monday and dawn." He rose, and I stood up; and for a moment we looked each other steadily in the eye.

Then he smiled faintly, shaking his head: "Not this time, Loskiel," he said in a low voice.

"My spectral pilot gives no sign.

Death lies beyond the fires of Catharines-town.

I know, Loskiel--I know." "I also," said I in a low voice, taking his outstretched hand, "for you shall live to make material amends as you have made them spiritually.
Only the act of deep contrition lies between you and God's swift pardon.