In the mirror of one sweet and simple human character he had seen the face of God--and he was of the same mind as the mighty musician who, when he was dying, cried out in rapture--"I believe I am only at the Beginning!"[2] He was conscious of a strange dual personality,--some spirit within him urgently expressed itself as being young, clamorous, inquisitive, eager, and impatient of restraint, while his natural bodily self was so weary and feeble that he felt as if he could scarcely move a hand.

He listened for a little while to the ticking of the clock in the kitchen which was next to his room,--and by and by, being thoroughly drowsy, he sank into a heavy slumber.

He did not know that Mary, anxious about him, had not gone to bed at all, but had resolved to sit up all night in case he should call her or want for anything.

But the hours wore on peacefully for him till the moon began her downward course towards the west, and the tide having rolled in to its highest mark, began to ebb and flow out again.

Then--all at once--he awoke--smitten by a shock of pain that seemed to crash through his heart and send his brain swirling into a blind chaos.