ds. A shaft
of light from the sinking sun struck in through the coloured window
behind her, and fell across her face with an indescribable glory. I
was still upon my knees and I could not rise, for it seemed to me
as though at that moment another Presence than that of the Maid was
with us in the room. My limbs shook. My heart seemed to melt within
me; and yet it was not fear which possessed me, but a mysterious
rapture the like of which I can in no wise fathom.

How long it lasted I know not. The light had faded when I rose to
my feet and met her wonderful gaze. She spoke just a few words.

"Now you know what help is given us in our hours of need. My
faithful knight need never mourn or weep for me; for that help and
comfort will never be withheld. Of this I have the promise clear
and steadfast!"

I was with her when she went to see her father. It was dark, and
the old man sat with his brother-in-law, Durand Laxart--he who had
helped her to her first interview with De Baudricourt--in one of
the best rooms of the inn. Since it had been known that these men
were the kinsfolk of the Maid, everything of the best had been put
at their disposal by the desire of the citizens, and horses had
been provided for them for their return to Domremy. For the city of
Rheims was filled with joy at that which had been accomplished, and
the Maid was the hero of the hour.

But I could see that there was a cloud upon the old man's face--the
father's; and he did not rise as his daughter entered--she before
whom nobles had learnt to bend, and who sat at the Council of the
King. His sombre eyes dwelt upon her with a strange expression in
their depths. His rugged face was hard; his knotted hands were
closely locked together.

The Maid gazed at him for a moment, a world of tender emotions in
her eyes; and then she quickly crossed the room and threw herself
at his feet.

"My father! My father! My father!"

The cry seemed to come from her heart, and I saw the old man's face
quiver and twitch; but he did not touch or embrace her.

"It is the dress he cannot bear," whispered Laxart distressfully to
me, "it is as gall and wormwood to him to see his daughter go about
in the garb of a man."

The Maid's face was raised in tender entreaty; she had hold of her
father's hands by now. She was covering them with kisses.

"O my father, have you no word for me? Have you not yet forgiven
your little Jeanne? I have but obeyed our Blessed Lord and His