sounded the opening chords of the overture!'

Rodney likened the jangling discords to the confusion of his own life.
There was in his soul a disappointed love, an implacable hate, and a
medley of other discords.

'You are waiting for the Maestro, Roddie!' said Madge. 'His baton will
reduce chaos to order with _a measure of three beats_.'

'Three beats?'

'Yes; three almighty beats: GOD--IS--LOVE!'

He shook his head.

'I left off pricking texts when I was five, and gave up painting when I
was nine.'

'It is not what you do to the texts, Rodney; it is what the texts do to
you!'

He left her, and, soon after, left London.

VI

Yes, he left her, and he left London; but he could not leave the text.
It confronted him once more. He had taken refuge in a little fishing
village on the East Coast. Up on the cliffs, among the corn-fields,
flecked with their crimson poppies, he came upon a quaint old church. He
stepped inside. In the porch was a painting of an old ruin--ivy-covered,
useless and desolate--standing out, jagged and roofless, against a
purple sky. The picture bore a striking inscription:

The ruins of my soul repair
And make my heart a house of prayer.

'_The ruins of my soul!_' Rodney thought of the discord within.

'_Make my heart a house of prayer!_' Rodney thought of the maestro.

He passed out into the little graveyard on the very edge of the cliff.
He was amused at the quaint epitaphs. Then one tombstone, lying flat
upon the ground, a tombstone which, in large capitals, called upon the
reader to 'Prepare to meet thy God,' startled him. Again he thought of
the clashing discords of his soul.

'Then, suddenly,' says Mrs. Barclay, 'the inspired Word did that which
It--and It alone--can do. It gripped Rodney and brought him face to face
with realities--past, present and future--in his own inner life. At
once, the Bishop's motto came into his mind; the three words his gentle
mother used to draw that her little boy might paint them stood out
clearly as the answer to all vague and restless questionings: GOD IS
LOVE!'

'_God is Love!_'

'_Prepare to Meet thy God!_'

How could he, with his old hate in his heart, stand in the presence of a
God of Love?

Standing there bareheaded, with one foot on the prone tombstone, Rodney
grappled with the passion that he had cherished through the years, and
thus took his first step along the path of preparation.

'I forgive the woman who came between u