With a palpitating heart, Oman gazed about him, overcome by the strangest emotion. It was as if his souls were straining at their fetters. Yet still there was a sense of desolation, a lack of something that was to come. Darkness was around him. Then suddenly, out of the west, from the now hidden fires there, it appeared:—the slender, gray-winged bird, the mysterious complement of his souls. As of old, straight to his breast it flew, trembling and warm. Clasping it close, Oman lifted his head and murmured softly:
“Lord, it is finished. Let me now go.”
Then he turned, and slowly, very slowly, walked into the temple. One outside, looking in through the shadows, might have perceived that he laid himself down upon the tomb of the two that had sinned of old; and that the bird upon his breast was still. A little later, moved, perhaps, by the evening wind, the doors swung gently to upon the body that had now delivered up its long-imprisoned souls.
What befell on High I do not know. But the hermit of the Silver Peak, the Saint of Mandu, was gone. Nor was he seen upon earth again.
THE END
NEW FICTION
THE CROSSING
By WINSTON CHURCHILL
Author of “The Crisis,” “Richard Carvel,” etc.
With Illustrations in Colors by Sydney Adamson and Lilian Bayliss
Cloth12mo $1.50