"Stop there!" said the Scotchman. "That's eno'. It's a' there, Tom; that's why I'm not afraid now. I'm in the valley of the shadow of death, but I dinna fear: the Lord is wi' me, and He's gotten hold of my hand."
"You must go now," said the nurse, coming up, "the doctor says you must not stay any longer."
"Good-bye," said the Scotchman, with a smile, "it's a' richt; you'll tell my mither, won't you?"
"Ay, I will," said Tom.
"And—and Tom," said the Scotchman almost eagerly, "although I shall be dead, I shall be near you, and mebbe—— Ay, but we shall meet in a better world, Tom. It's a' richt."
As Tom passed through the room where the sick and wounded men lay, he noticed that they looked towards him longingly, wonderingly. The atmosphere of the place seemed charged with something sacred. At that moment Tom knew the meaning of the word Sacrament.
The next day the Scotchman died. The nurse was with him to the very last, and just before he breathed his last breath he lifted his eyes to her with a smile.
"It's a' richt, nurse," he said, "what my mither taught me was true down to the very foundations."
"Ay, it was grand, it was grand!" said Tom Pollard when he heard the news. "It doesn't seem like death at all, it was just victory, victory!"
After that Tom did his work with a new light in his eyes. It seemed as though his visit to the Scotchman had removed the last remaining cloud which had hung in the sky of his faith.