ivate reasons."

It was Rosa Macquarrie. Going down the dark lane she came upon a woman
who had haunted the outside of the building during the past half hour,
apparently thinking at one moment of entering and at the next of going
away. The woman hurriedly lowered her veil as Rosa approached her, but
she was too late to avoid recognition.

"Glory! Is it you?"

Glory covered her face with her hands and sobbed.

"Whatever are you doing here?"

"Don't ask me, Rosa. Oh, I'm a lost woman! Lord forgive me, what have I
done?"

"My poor child!"

"Take me home, Rosa. And don't leave me to-night, dear--not to-night,
Rosa."

And Rosa took her by the arm and led her back to Clement's Inn.

Next morning before daybreak the brothers of the Society of the Holy
Gethsemane had gathered in their church in Bishopsgate Street for Lauds
and Prime. Only the chancel was lighted up, the rest of the church was
dark, but the first gleams of dawn, were now struggling through the
eastern window against the candlelight on the altar and the gaslight on
the choir.

John Storm was standing on the altar steps and the Father was by his
side. He was wearing the cassock of the Brotherhood, and the cord with
the three knots was bound about his waist. All was silent round about,
the city was still asleep, the current of life had not yet awakened for
the day. Lauds and Prime were over, the brothers were on their knees, and
the Father was reading the last words of the dedication service.

"Amen! Amen!"

There was a stroke of the bell overhead, a door somewhere was loudly
slammed, and then the organ began to play:

Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty.

The brothers rose and sang, their voices filled the dark place, and the
quivering sounds of the organ swelled up to the unseen roof.

Holy, Holy, Holy! Merciful and Mighty,
God in Three Persons, Blessed Trinity!

The Father's cheeks were moist, but his eyes were shining and his face
was full of a great joy. John Storm was standing with bowed head. He had
made the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, and surrendered his
life to God.

FOURTH BOOK. _SANCTUARY_

I.

Six months passed, and a panic terror had seized London. It was one of
those epidemic frenzies which have fallen upon great cities in former
ages of the world. The public mind was filled with the idea that London
was threatened with a serious danger; that it was verging on an awful
crisis; that it was abou