alf to himself, seizing on the new idea
fiercely, as men and women do who are yet groping for the truth of life.

"What is it your Novalis says? 'The true Shechinah is man.' You know
no higher God? Pooh! the idea is old enough; it began with Eve. It
works slowly, Holmes. In six thousand years, taking humanity as one,
this self-existent soul should have clothed itself with a freer,
royaller garment than poor Lois's body,--or mine," he added, bitterly.

"It works slowly," said the other, quietly. "Faster soon, in America.
There are yet many ills of life for the divinity within to conquer."

"And Lois and the swarming mass yonder in those dens? It is late for
them to begin the fight?"

"Endurance is enough for them here, and their religions teach them
that. They could not bear the truth. One does not put a weapon into
the hands of a man dying of the fetor and hunger of the siege."

"But what will this life, or the lives to come, give to you, champions
who know the truth?"

"Nothing but victory," he said, in a low tone, looking away.

Knowles looked at the pale strength of the iron face.

"God help you, Stephen!" he broke out, his shallow jeering falling off.
"For there IS a God higher than we. The ills of life you mean to
conquer will teach it to you, Holmes. You'll find the Something above
yourself, if it's only to curse Him and die."

Holmes did not smile at the old man's heat,--walked gravely, steadily.

There was a short silence. Knowles put his hand gently on the other's
arm.

"Stephen," he hesitated, "you're a stronger man than I. I know what
you are; I've watched you from a boy. But you're wrong here. I'm an
old man. There's not much I know in life,--enough to madden me. But I
do know there's something stronger,--some God outside of the mean devil
they call 'Me.' You'll learn it, boy. There's an old story of a man
like you and the rest of your sect, and of the vile, mean, crawling
things that God sent to bring him down. There are such things yet.
Mean passions in your divine soul, low, selfish things, that will get
the better of you, show you what you are. You'll do all that man can
do. But they are coming, Stephen Holmes! they're coming!"

He stopped, startled. For Holmes had turned abruptly, glancing over at
the city with a strange wistfulness. It was over in a moment. He
resumed the slow, controlling walk beside him. They went on in silence
into town, and when they did speak,