And then, unbidden, but because he could not do otherwise, Linus knelt softly down; and the man, tenderly and gently, as a father might tell a child a secret by slow degrees, fearful that it might be too hard for the tender spirit, turned and looked at him, and Linus felt the eyes sink as it were into his soul, and it seemed to him at that moment that he had said without the need of speech all that had ever been in his heart; he felt himself in one instant understood and cared for, utterly and perfectly, so that he should have no need ever to fear or doubt again; and Linus said softly the only words that came into his mind, the words of one who had doubted and was strengthened, "My Lord and my God."
So he knelt for a moment, and then knew that he was to rise and go, and it seemed to him that the other looked back upon the book with somewhat of a sigh, as one who was content to work, but had waited long.
So Linus went back down the corridor and through the little room, where the man still sat writing, and stepped into the hall again.
The hall seemed very dark and fiery after the radiance of that other morning; the guests were as Linus had left them; Dion sat in his place; and just as Linus came to his own chair, it seemed to him that some one slipped quietly away; and Dion looked at him with a very tender and inquiring gaze. "Yes," said Linus, "I have seen." "And you understand?" said Dion. "Yes," said Linus, "in part—I understand enough."
When Linus looked round the hall again, he was surprised to find that what had distressed and almost terrified him before, the uproar, the evil mirth, the light-hearted wickedness moved him now more with a tender and wondering sorrow; and he asked Dion how it was. "Because," said Dion, "you have seen the end; and you know that though the way is dark and long, we shall arrive." "Yes," he went on, "we shall arrive; there is no doubting that; the Father's heart is wide, and He will bring His sons even from afar."
ENVOI
Let those whose Hearts and Hands are strong
Tell eager Tales of mighty Deeds;
Enough if my sequestered Song
To hush'd and twilight Gardens leads!
Clear Waters, drawn from secret Wells,
Perchance may fevered Lips assuage;
The Tales an elder Pilgrim tells
To such as go on Pilgrimage.