son with the worship of ages.

Garth was playing the "Veni, Creator Spiritus" to Attwood's perfect
setting; and, as Jane walked noiselessly up to the chancel, he began to
sing the words of the second verse. He sang them softly, but his
beautifully modulated barytone carried well, and every syllable reached
her.

"Enable with perpetual light
The dulness of our blinded sight;
Anoint and cheer our soiled face
With the abundance of Thy grace;
Keep far our foes; give peace at home;
Where Thou art Guide, no ill can come."

Then the organ swelled into full power, pealing out the theme of the
last verse without its words, and allowing those he had sung to repeat
themselves over and over in Jane's mind: "Where Thou art Guide, no ill
can come." Had she not prayed for guidance? Then surely all would be
well.

She paused at the entrance to the chancel. Garth had returned to the
second verse, and was singing again, to a waldflute accompaniment,
"Enable with perpetual light--."

Jane seated herself in one of the old oak stalls and looked around her.
The brilliant sunshine from without entered through the stained-glass
windows, mellowed into golden beams of soft amber light, with here and
there a shaft of crimson. What a beautiful expression--perpetual light!
As Garth sang it, each syllable seemed to pierce the silence like a ray
of purest sunlight. "The dulness of--" Jane could just see the top of
his dark head over the heavy brocade of the organ curtain. She dreaded
the moment when he should turn, and those vivid eyes should catch sight
of her--"our blinded sight." How would he take what she must say? Would
she have strength to come through a long hard scene? Would he be
tragically heart-broken?--"Anoint and cheer our soiled face"--Would he
argue, and insist, and override her judgment?--"With the abundance of
Thy grace"--Could she oppose his fierce strength, if he chose to exert
it? Would they either of them come through so hard a time without
wounding each other terribly?--"Keep far our foes; give peace at
home"--Oh! what could she say? What would he say? How should she
answer? What reason could she give for her refusal which Garth would
ever take as final?--"Where Thou art Guide, no ill can come."

And then, after a few soft, impromptu chords; the theme changed.

Jane's heart stood still. Garth was playing "The Rosary." He did not
sing it; but the soft insistence of the organ pipes seemed to