e state. On he read, in a quiet even voice, till he came to
the twelfth and four following verses, of which the last three run: "For
the unbelieving husband is sanctified by the wife, and the unbelieving
wife is sanctified by the husband: else were your children unclean;
but now they are holy. But if the unbelieving depart, let him depart.
A brother or a sister is not under bondage in such cases; but God has
called us to peace. For what knowest thou, O wife, whether thou shalt
save thy husband? or how knowest thou, O man, whether thou shalt save
thy wife?" Dirk's voice trembled, and he paused.

"Continue to the end of the chapter," said Brant, so the reader went on.

There is a sound. They do not hear it, but the door of the bedchamber
behind them opens ever so little. They do not see it, but between door
and lintel something white thrusts itself, a woman's white face crowned
with black hair, and set in it two evil, staring eyes. Surely,
when first he raised his head in Eden, Satan might have worn such a
countenance as this. It cranes itself forward till the long, thin neck
seems to stretch; then suddenly a stir or a movement alarms it, and back
the face draws like the crest of a startled snake. Back it draws, and
the door closes again.

The chapter is read, the prayer is prayed, and strange may seem the
answer to that prayer, an answer to shake out faith from the hearts of
men; men who are impatient, who do not know that as the light takes long
in travelling from a distant star, so the answer from the Throne to the
supplication of trust may be long in coming. It may not come to-day
or to-morrow. It may not come in this generation or this century; the
prayer of to-day may receive its crown when the children's children of
the lips that uttered it have in their turn vanished in the dust. And
yet that Divine reply may in no wise be delayed; even as our liberty
of this hour may be the fruit of those who died when Dirk van Goorl and
Hendrik Brant walked upon the earth; even as the vengeance that but now
is falling on the Spaniard may be the reward of the deeds of shame that
he worked upon them and upon their kin long generations gone. For the
Throne is still the Throne, and the star is still the star; from the one
flows justice and from the other light, and to them time and space are
naught.

Dirk finished the chapter and closed the Book.

"It seems that you have your answer, Brother," said Brant quietly.

"Yes," repli