n!"

"There is no brighter one for me," was the answer. "She had a brighter
one, poor child--and mine was a heavy trouble to her. Why should we
deceive ourselves? What are we in His sight--in the sight of Immutable,
Eternal God? We can only do His will and await the end. We have reason
which we may not use; we can only believe and suffer. There is agony on
every side of us which, if it were His will, He might relieve, but does
not. It is His will, and what is the impotent rebellion of Nature against
that? What help have we against Him?"

His harsh voice had risen until it was almost a cry, the lank locks which
fell over his sallow forehead were damp with sweat. He put them back with
a desperate gesture.

"Such words of themselves are sin," he said, "and it is my curse and
punishment that I should bear in my breast every hour the crime of such
rebellion. What is there left for me? Is there any labour or any pang
borne for others that will wipe out the stain from my soul?"

John Baird looked at him as he had looked before. His usual ready flow of
speech, his rapidity of thought, his knowledge of men and their
necessities seemed all to have deserted him.

"I--" he stammered, "I am not--fit--not fit----"

He had not known what he was going to say when he began, and he did not
know how he intended to end. He heard with a passionate sense of relief
that the door behind them opened, and turned to find that Mrs. Latimer
stood upon the threshold as if in hesitancy.

"Lucien," she said, "it is that poor girl from Janway's Mills. The one
Margery was so sorry for--Susan Chapman. She wants to see you. I think
the poor child wants to ask about Margery."

Latimer made a movement forward, but checked himself.

"Tell her to come in," he said.

Mrs. Latimer went to the front door, and in a few seconds returned. The
girl was with her and entered the room slowly. She was very pale and her
eyes were dilated and she breathed fast as if frightened. She glanced at
John Baird and stopped.

"I didn't know anyone else was here," she said.

"I will go away, if you wish it," said Baird, the sympathetic tone
returning to his voice.

"No," said Latimer, "you can do her more good than I can. This
gentleman," he added to the girl, "is my friend, and a Minister of God as
well as myself. He is the Rev. John Baird."

There was in his eyes, as he addressed her, a look which was like an
expression of dread--as if he saw in her young yet fad