He was alone there.

Towards the inner chapel the white-robed choir moved softly; for a moment the curtains were drawn aside revealing the misty candle-light within; the white choir passed through--the curtains Fell again, leaving Olva alone with the great golden trumpeting angels above the organ for his company.
Then great peace came upon him.

Some one had taken his soul, softly, with gentle hands, and was caring for it.

He was suddenly freed from responsibility, and as the soothing comfort stole about him he knew that now he had simply to wait to be shown what it was that he must do.

This was not the strange indifference of yesterday, nor the physical strength of the morning.