Soft impulses from moon and stars, and from the witching beauty of lonely hills and scented garden-ways, touched within their souls some primal sympathy that drew them close to that unseen boundary dividing spirits from shadow-casting men.

It is true they rather felt than understood; but when the soul has faith, what matters comprehension?
In the cold sweetness of the following dawn, the squire returned from Up-Hill.

"Barf is gone, Alice," were his first words.
"But all is well, William." "No doubt of it.

I met the rector on the hillside.

'How is Barf ?' I asked; and he answered, 'Thank God, he has the mastery!' Then he went on without another word.