they might take you to the North Pole and surround you
with regiments of soldiers--but that I'd come to claim you. I tell you
that again. _He_ wrote our two names in one horoscope and it had to be."

CHAPTER VI

In the library at the old manse that afternoon there was less of
sunlight and joy. Shadows hung between the walls and there were shadows,
too, in the heart of one of the men who sat by a central, paper-littered
table.

It was at best a cheerless room; this study where the minister had for
decades prepared the messages of his stewardship--and sternly drawn
indictments against sin. In the drawers of the old-fashioned desk those
sermons lay tightly rolled and dusty. Never had he spared himself--and
never had he spared others. What he failed to see was that in all those
sheaves upon sheaves of carefully penned teaching, was no single relief
of bright optimism, no single touch of sweet and gracious tolerance, not
one vibrating echo of Christ's great soul-song of tenderness.

Now it was ended. He had dropped in the harness and younger men were
taking up the relay race. They were men, he feared, who were not to be
altogether trusted; men beguiled by dangerous novelties of trend. With
worldliness of thought pressing always forward; with atheism increasing,
they were compromising and, it seemed to him, giving way cravenly, step
by step, to encroachment.

But the conversation just now was not of religion, or even dogma which
in this room had so often been confused with religion. Eben Tollman was
sitting in a stiff-backed chair across from his host. His face wore the
immobile expression of a man who never forgets the oppressive fact that
he is endowed with dignity.

"Eben," said the minister, "for years you have advised me on all money
matters and carried the advice into effect. You have virtually annexed
my business to your own and carried a double load."

"You have devoted your life to matters of greater moment, Mr. Williams,"
unctuously responded the younger man. "Your stewardship has been to
God."

"I could have wished," the minister's face clouded with anxiety, "that I
might have seen Conscience settled down with a godly husband and a child
or two about her before I go. Those are restless days and a girl should
have an anchorage."

There was a pause and at its end Tollman said hesitantly, almost
tentatively, "There is young Mr. Farquaharson, of course."

"Young Mr. Farquaharson!" The minister's low