e go."

"Once," said Jim Airth, tightening his grasp on her wrists--"once, Myra,
we said no 'good-night,' and no 'good-morning.'"

"Jim, darling!" said Myra, gently; "on that night, before I went to
sleep, you said to me: 'We are not alone. _God is here_.' And then you
repeated part of the hundred and thirty-ninth psalm. And, Jim--I thought
you the best and strongest man I had ever known; and I felt that, all my
life, I should trust you, as I trusted my God."

Jim Airth loosed the hands he had held so tightly, and kissed them very
gently. "Good-night, my sweetheart," he said, "and God bless you!" Then
he turned away to the marble table.

Myra ran swiftly up the stairs and closed her door.

Then she knelt beside her bed, and sobbed uncontrollably; partly for joy,
and partly for sorrow. The unanswered question commenced its reiteration:
"Ah, was I right to keep him waiting?"

Presently she lifted her head, held her breath, and stared into the
darkness. A vision seemed to pass across her room. A tall, bearded man,
in evening clothes. In his arms a tiny dog, peeping at her through its
curls, as if to say: "_I_ have the better place. Where do _you_ come in?"
The tall man turned at the door. "Good-night, my dear Myra," he said,
kindly.

The vision passed.

Lady Ingleby buried her face in the bedclothes. "That--for ten long
years!" she said. Then, in the darkness, she saw the mutinous fire of Jim
Airth's blue eyes, and felt the grip of his strong hands on hers. "How
can I say 'Good-night'?" protested his deep voice, passionately. And,
with a rush of happy tears, Myra clasped her hands, whispering: "Dear
God, am I at last to know the Best?"

And up the stairs came Jim Airth, whistling like a nightingale. But, as a
concession to Miss Murgatroyd's ideas concerning suitable Sabbath music,
he discarded "Nancy Lee," and whistled:

"Eternal Father, strong to save,
Whose arm hath bound the restless wave;
Who bidst the mighty ocean deep,
Its own appointed limits keep,
O hear us, when we cry to Thee----"

And, kneeling beside her bed, in the darkness, Myra made of it her
evening prayer.

CHAPTER XV

"WHERE IS LADY INGLEBY?"

When Jim Airth left the train on the following Tuesday afternoon, he
looked eagerly up and down the platform, hoping to see Myra. True, they
had particularly arranged not to meet, until after his interview with
Lad