The high arched door was never opened of late years, except at long intervals, when some one came out from the city to hold services.

But the side door was certainly ajar now, for the saddest music that John Jay had ever heard in all his life came trembling out on the warm summer air.
Forgetting all about his errand, he scrambled through the fence and up the gently rising knoll.

His bare feet made no noise as he tiptoed up the steps and stood peering through the open door.

It was dim and cool inside, with only the light that could sift through the violet and amber of the stained glass windows; but in one, the big one at the end, was the figure of a snowy dove, with outstretched wings.

Through this silvery pane a long slanting ray of light, dazzling in its white radiance, streamed across the keys of the organ and the man who played them,--the Reverend George.
It threw a strange light on the upturned face,--a face black as ebony, worn with suffering, but showing in every feature the refining touch of a noble spirit.