remarked Tom. "He had just had
an interview with Stamps, and he certainly was not happy at the sight of
me. He thought he had another on his hands. He's in better spirits by
this time."

Sheba got up and went to his side of the table. She put her arms round
his neck and pressed her cheek against his.

"Forget about him," she said.

"I am not remembering him particularly," said Tom, the shade passing from
his eyes; "I am remembering you--as you were nineteen years ago."

"Nineteen years ago!" said Sheba. "I was a baby!"

"Yes," answered Tom, folding a big arm round her, and speaking slowly. "I
saw a man to-day who reminded me of the day you were born. Are you glad
you were born, Sheba? that's what I want to be sure of."

The two pairs of young eyes met glowing. Tom knew they had met, by the
warmth of the soft cheek touching him.

"Yes, I am glad--I am glad--I am glad!" with grateful sweetness.

"And I--and I," cried Rupert. He sprung up and held out an impetuous
boyish hand to Tom. "You know how glad, Uncle Tom--look at her--look at
me--see how glad we both are; and it is you--you who have made it so."

"It's a pretty big thing," said Tom, "that two people should be glad they
are alive." And he grasped the ardent hand as affectionately as it was
offered.

CHAPTER XXXII

The Reverend John Baird and his friend the Reverend Lucien Latimer were
lodged in a quiet house in a quiet street. The lecturing tour had been
fatiguing, and Baird was glad of such repose as he could secure. In
truth, the excitement and strain of his work, the journeying from place
to place, the hospitalities from which he could not escape, had worn upon
him. He had grown thinner, and often did not sleep well at night. He used
to find himself lying awake repeating to himself mechanically words from
his own lecture. "Repentance is too late," his voice would whisper to the
darkness. "Repentance cannot undo."

His audiences found him an irresistible force. He had become more than
the fashion of the hour; he was its passion. People liked to look at as
well as to hear him. He was besieged by lion-hunters, overwhelmed with
attentions in each town or city he visited. Reporters followed him,
interviewers besought appointments, agreeable people invited him to their
houses, intrusive people dogged him. Latimer stood between him and as
many fatigues as he could. He transacted business for him, and
interviewed interviewers; and he went to tirin