rough the
ages, to the One who was to come, to the Blood which could take away
sin? Did our own Scripture say so? `The Man that is My Fellow'--he
read it, from one of our very own prophets. And `we hid our faces from
Him!' If He from whom we hid our faces--for there was but one such--if
He were the Sent of God, the Man that is His Fellow, the Lamb whose
blood maketh atonement for the soul,--why then, what could there be for
us but tribulation and wrath and indignation from before the Holy One
for ever? Was it any marvel that we were punished seventy times for our
sins, if we had done that?"

Belasez drew a long breath, and altered her position.

"And, if we had not done that, what had we done? The old perplexity
came back on me, worse than ever. What had we done? We were not
idolaters any more; we were not profane; we kept the rest of the holy
Sabbath. Yet the Blessed One was angry with us,--He hid His face from
us: and the centuries went on, and we were exiles still,--still under
the displeasure of our heavenly King. And what had we done?--if we had
not hidden our faces from Him who was the Man that is His Fellow. And
then--"

Belasez paused again, and a softer, sadder expression came into her
eyes.

"And then the Bishop read some other words,--I suppose they were from
your sacred books: I do not think they came from ours. He read that
`because this Man continueth to eternity, untransferable hath He the
priesthood.' He read that `if any man sin, we have an Advocate with the
Father, and He is the propitiation for our sins.' And again he read
some grand words, said by this Man Himself,--`I am the First and the
Last, and the Living One: and I was dead, and am alive for evermore; and
with Me are the keys of Sheol and of death.' Oh, it was so different,
Doucebelle, from your priests' sermons generally! There was not a word
about that strange thing you call the Church,--not a word about the
maiden whom you worship. It was all about Him who was to be the Sent of
God. And I thought--may I be forgiven of the Holy One, if it were
wicked!--I thought this was the Priest that would suit me: this was the
Prophet that could teach me: this was the Man, who, if only I knew that
to do it was truth and not error, was light and not darkness, was life
and not death, I could be content to follow to the world's end. And how
am I to know it?"

Doucebelle looked up earnestly, and the girls' eyes met. One of them
was