s and plunder on the streets;
let them find their place in this land from you, and let them hear from
you of the God of our fathers."

Grace felt his magnetism. "I wish you could go through the streets of
New York saying such things."

He shook his head. "I shall not come to the city. My place is found,
and I shall stay there; but I have faith to believe that there will yet
be a Voice to speak, to which the world shall listen."

"Soon?"

"Everything points to an awakening. People are beginning to say, 'Tell
us,' where a few years ago they said, 'There is nothing to tell.'"

"I see--it will be wonderful when it comes--I'm going to try to do my
little bit, and be ready, and when Mary comes back, she shall help me."

His eyes went to where Mary sat between Porter and Aunt Frances.

"She may never come back."

"She must be made to come."

"Who could make her?"

"The man she loves."

She flashed a sparkling glance at him, and rose.

"Come, mother," she said, "it is time to go." Then, as she gave Roger
her hand, she smiled. "Faint heart," she murmured, "don't you know
that a man like you, if he tries, can conquer the--world?"

She left Roger with his pulses beating madly. What did she mean? Did
she think that--Mary----? He went up to the Tower Rooms to dress for
dinner, with his mind in a whirl. The windows were open and the warm
air blew in. Looking out, he could see in the distance the shining
river--like a silver ribbon, and the white shaft of the Monument, which
seemed to touch the sky. But he saw more than that; he saw his future
and Mary's; again he dreamed his dreams.

If he had hoped for a moment alone that night with the lady of his
heart, he was doomed to disappointment, for Leila and her father came
to dinner. Leila was very still and sweet in her widow's black, the
General brooding over her. And again Roger had the sense that in this
house of sorrow there was no place for love-making. For the joy that
might be his--he must wait; even though he wearied in the waiting.

And it was while he waited that he lunched one day with Porter Bigelow.
The invitation had surprised him, and he had felt vaguely troubled and
oppressed by the thought that back of it might be some motive as yet
unrevealed. But there had been nothing to do but accept, and at one
o'clock he was at the University Club.

For a time they spoke of indifferent things, then Porter said, bluntly,
"I am not going to beat ab