"Agnes," he said, leading her up to an easel, which stood under the chandelier in the middle of the room, "I have looked out another little treasure for you, in remembrance of your knight! I felt, after what we talked about yesterday, that it ought to belong to no one else."
When Agnes reached the easel, what was her surprise to see a beautiful oil painting of a soldier, clad in armour, kneeling before his sovereign, receiving from his hands the victor's laurels and rewards!
His face, patient with many a hardship, holy with many a self-denial, earnest with many a purpose, radiant with many a victory, his face touched the hearts of the lookers on, all fresh from Agnes' earnest words, and a silent sort of awe fell upon them, as they thought of what they had undertaken, and of what the end would be.
Their uncle's voice, gentle and solemn, broke the pause—
"'I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me at that day.'"
"I cannot attempt to thank you," said Agnes in a low voice, putting her hand in her uncle's, "but—"
"Don't try to, my dear. Rather would I thank you for having turned my haunted chamber into an armoury of light!"
That night as Hugh, the last of the party, crossed the hall on his way to bed, he paused by the marble pillars and looked round.
The moon had left the windows of the haunted chamber, and had come round to the front, where it streamed along the pavement, touching the feet of the gaunt knights, and casting fairy shadows from the ferns and palms between which they stood.
"'The whole armour of God,'" he murmured softly, "I wonder how long I shall be before I have strength to buckle it all on? But I'm glad there are those words: 'I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me!'"