Going to the fireplace, he leaned his forehead against the stone and looked down at the laid, not kindled, wood.

He turned and came back to Ian.

"The world seems to me all good." Ian laughed at him, half in raillery, but half in a flood of kindness.
If what had stirred had been ancient betrayal, alive and vital one knew not when, now again it was dead, dead.

He rose, he put his arm again about Alexander's shoulder.

"Glenfernie! Glenfernie! you're in deep! Well, I hope the world will stay heaven, e'en for your sake!" They left the old room with its hauntings of a boy's search for gold, with, back of that, who might know what hauntings of ancient times and fortress doings, violences and agonies, subduings, revivings, cark and care and light struggling through, dark nights and waited-for dawns! They went down the stair and out of the keep.