ng
consciousness of the lives beyond those walls, of other spirits capable
of suffering, of conflict, and of peace, not far away; till she knew
that this present blessing of happiness came to her, not only from
the scarce-realised thought of God, but also from the scarce-realised
thought of man.

Close by, divided from her only by a little masonry, a few feet of sand,
a few palm trees, Androvsky was with the priest.

Still kneeling, with her face between her hands, Domini began to think
and pray. The memory of her petition to Notre Dame de la Garde came back
to her. Before she knew Africa she had prayed for men wandering, and
perhaps unhappy, there, for men whom she would probably never see again,
would never know. And now that she was growing familiar with this land,
divined something of its wonders and its dangers, she prayed for a man
in it whom she did not know, who was very near to her making a sacrifice
of his prejudices, perhaps of his fears, at her desire. She prayed for
Androvsky without words, making of her feelings of gratitude to him a
prayer, and presently, in the darkness framed by her hands, she seemed
to see Liberty once more, as in the shadows of the dancing-house,
standing beside a man who prayed far out in the glory of the desert. The
storm, spoken of by the Diviner, did not always rage. It was stilled to
hear his prayer. And the darkness had fled, and the light drew near to
listen. She pressed her face more strongly against her hands, and began
to think more definitely.

Was this interview with the priest the first step taken by Androvsky
towards the gift the desert held for him?

He must surely be a man who hated religion, or thought he hated it.

Perhaps he looked upon it as a chain, instead of as the hammer that
strikes away the fetters from the slave.

Yet he had worn a crucifix.

She lifted her head, put her hand into her breast, and drew out the
crucifix. What was its history? She wondered as she looked at it. Had
someone who loved him given it to him, someone, perhaps, who grieved
at his hatred of holiness, and who fancied that this very humble symbol
might one day, as the humble symbols sometimes do, prove itself a little
guide towards shining truth? Had a woman given it to him?

She laid the cross down on the edge of the _prie-dieu_.

There was red fire gleaming now on the windows of the church. She
realised the pageant that was marching up the west, the passion of the
world as we