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the inadequacy of his rectitude or prehension。
But he fought his bone…deep need for rest because he was afraid of what might happen to him if he slept。 He had learned that the innocent do not sleep。 Guilt begins in dreams。
Neither of these abnegations surpassed him。 The nausea lurking constantly in the pit of his stomach helped him to keep from food。 And the fever of his plight did not let him go。 It held and rubbed him like a harness； he seemed to have the galls of it on his soul。 Whenever the penury of his resources threatened him； he gusted out of his house like a lost wind； and scudded through the hills for miles up and down the wooded length of Righters Creek。 And when he could not rouse himself with exertion； he lay down across the broken furniture in his living room； so that if he dozed he would be too unfortable to rest deeply enough for dreams。
In the process； he did nothing to care for his illness。 His VSE…the Visual Surveillance of Extremities on which his struggle against leprosy depended…and other self…protective habits he neglected as if they had lost all meaning for him。 He did not take the medication which had at one time arrested the spreading of his disease。 His forehead festered； cold numbness gnawed its slow way up the nerves of his hands and feet。 He accepted such things； ignored his danger。 It was condign； he deserved it。
Nevertheless； he fell into the same fey mood every evening。 In the gloom of twilight； his need for people became unendurable； it drew him spitting and gnashing his teeth to the outer darkness beyond the home lights of the town。 Night after night he tried to drive himself to the door of a home； any home。 But he could not raise his courage high enough to accost the lights。 People within a stone's throw of him remained as unattainable as if they occupied another world。 Each night he was thrown back for panionship on the unrelieved aspect of his own weakness…and on the throbbing ache which filled his skull as the infection in his forehead grew。
Elena had died because of him。 She was his daughter； and he had loved her。 Yet he had trapped her into death。
She had never even existed。
He could find no answer to it。
Then； Thursday night； the pattern of his decline was broken for him。 In the process of his futile ghosting； he became aware of sounds on the dark breeze。 A tone rose and fell like a voice in oratory； and between its stanzas he heard singing。 Disembodied in the darkness； the voices had a tattered； mournful air； like an invitation to a gathering of damned souls…verses and chorus responding in dolor to each other。 Elena had been a singer； daughter of a family of singers。 Fumbling his way through the benighted outskirts of the town； he followed the reft sorrow of the music。
It led him past the houses； around the town； down the road to the barren field which served as a parade ground whenever the town celebrated a patriotic occasion。 A few people were still hurrying toward the field as if they were late； and Covenant avoided them by staying off the road。 When he reached the parade ground； he found that a huge tent had been erected in its center。 All the sides of the tent were rolled up； so that the light of pressure lanterns shone vividly from under the canvas。
People filled the tent。 They were just sitting down on benches after singing； and during the movement； several ushers guided the lateers to the last empty seats。 The benches faced in tight rows toward a wide platform at the front of the tent； where three men sat。 They were behind a heavy pulpit； and behind them stood a makeshift altar； hastily hammered together out of pine boards； and bleakly adorned by a few crooked candles and a dull； battered gold cross。
As the people settled themselves on the benches； one of the men on the platform…a short fleshy man dressed in a black suit and a dull white shirt…got to his feet and stepped to the pulpit。 In a sonorous； pelling voice； he said； 〃Let us pray。〃
All the people bowed their heads。 Covenant was on the verge of turning away in disgust； but the quiet confidence of the man's tone stayed him。 He listened unwillingly as the man folded his hands on the pulpit and prayed gently：
〃Dear Jesus； our Lord and Saviour…please look down on the souls that have e together here。 Look into their hearts； Lord…see the pain； and the hurt； and the loneliness； and the sorrow…yes； and the sin…and the hunger for You in their hearts。 fort them； Lord。 Help them； heal them。 Teach them the peace and the miracle of prayer in Thy true name。 Amen。''
Together； the people responded； 〃Amen。〃
The man's voice tugged at Covenant。 He heard something in it that sounded like sincerity； like simple passion。 He could not be sure； he seemed to have learned what little he knew about sincerity in dreams。 But he did not move away。 Instead； while the people raised their heads from prayer； he moved cautiously forward into the light； went close enough to the tent to read a large sign posted at the side of the road。 It said：
The EASTER HEALTH Crusade…
Dr。 B。 Sam Johnson
revivalist and healer
tonight through Sunday
only。
On the platform； another man approached the pulpit。 He wore a clerical collar； and a silver cross hung from his neck。 He pushed his heavy glasses up on his nose； and beamed out over the people。 〃I'm pleased as punch；〃 he said； 〃to have Dr。 Johnson and Matthew Logan here。 They're known everywhere in the state for their rich ministry to the spiritual needs of people like us。 I don't need to tell you how much we need reviving here…how many of us need to recover that healing faith； especially in this Easter season。 Dr。 Johnson and Mr。 Logan are going to help us return to the matchless Grace of God。〃
The short man dressed in black stood up again and said； 〃Thank you； sir。〃 The minister hesitated； then left the pulpit as if he had been dismissed…cut off in the opening stages of a fulsome introduction…and Dr。 Johnson went on smoothly： 〃My friends； here's my dear brother in Christ； Matthew Logan。 You've heard his wonderful； wonderful singing。 Now he'll read the Divine Word of God for us。 Brother Logan。〃
As he stepped to the pulpit； Matthew Logan's powerful frame towered over Dr。 Johnson。 Though he seemed to have no neck at all； the head resting on his broad shoulders was half a yard above his partner's。 He flipped authoritatively through a massive black Bible on the pulpit； found his place； and bowed his head to read as if in deference to the Word of God。
He began without introduction：
〃 'But if you will not hearken to me； and will not do all these mandments； but break my covenant； I will do this to you： I will appoint over you sudden terror； consumption； and fever that waste the eyes and cause life to pine away。 And you shall sow your seed in vain； for your enemies shall eat it； those who hate you shall rule over you； and you shall flee when none pursues you。 I will make your heavens like iron and your earth like brass； and your strength shall be spent in vain； for your land shall not yield its increase； and the trees of the land shall not yield their fruit。
'' Then if you wal