an. I believe I've made
that remark before. You have managed that case wonderfully."

"There was a time," replied Miss Grower, thoughtfully, when it looked
pretty black. We've got a chance with her now, I think."

"I hope so. I begin to feel so," Mr. Bentley declared.

"If we succeed," Miss Grower went on, "it will be through the heart. And
if we lose her again, it will be through the heart."

Hodder started at this proof of insight.

"You know her history, Mr. Hodder?" she asked.

"Yes," he said.

"Well, I don't. And I don't care to. But the way to get at Kate Marcy,
light as she is in some respects, is through her feelings. And she's
somehow kept 'em alive. We've got to trust her, from now on--that's the
only way. And that's what God does, anyhow."

This was one of Miss Grover's rare references to the Deity.

Turning over that phrase in his mind, Hodder went slowly back towards the
parish house. God trusted individuals--even such as Kate Marcy. What
did that mean? Individual responsibility! He repeated it. Was the
world on that principle, then? It was as though a search-light were
flung ahead of him and he saw, dimly, a new order--a new order in
government and religion. And, as though spoken by a voice out of the
past, there sounded in his ears the text of that sermon which had so
deeply moved him, "I will arise and go to my Father."

The church was still open, and under the influence of the same strange
excitement which had driven him to walk in the rain so long ago, he
entered and went slowly up the marble aisle. Through the gathering gloom
he saw the figure on the cross. And as he stood gazing at it, a message
for which he had been waiting blazed up within him.

He would not leave the Church!

CHAPTER XVIII

THE RIDDLE OF CAUSATION

I

In order to portray this crisis in the life of Kate Marcy, the outcome of
which is still uncertain, other matters have been ignored.

How many persons besides John Hodder have seemed to read--in crucial
periods--a meaning into incidents having all the outward appearance of
accidents! What is it that leads us to a certain man or woman at a
certain time, or to open a certain book? Order and design? or influence?

The night when he had stumbled into the cafe in Dalton Street might well
have been termed the nadir of Hodder's experience. His faith had been
blotted out, and, with it had suddenly been extinguished all spiritual
sense, The beast had taken possess