He looked out over the moor through a gap in the stones.

There was a dim path below; the fancy struck him that Christ, the 'Traveller unknown,' was passing along it.

He had already stretched out His hand of blessing to Tom Mullins.
'To me! to me, too!' David cried under his breath, carried away by the haunting imagination, and straining his eyes into the dusk.

Had the night opened to his sight there and then in a vision of glory, he would have been no whit surprised.
Hark!--what was that sound?
A weird scream rose on the wind.

The startled congregation in the smithy scrambled to their feet.