ey? No, no, no! Your poor, dear, heroic little woman is
alive! She may be in danger, and beset by all the powers of the devil,
but that's just why you have been brought home to save her, and you
_will_ save her, as surely as the sun will rise to-morrow morning."

There are thoughts which, like great notes in music, grip you by the
soul and lift you into a world which you don't naturally belong to. This
was one of them.

Never after that did I feel one moment's real anxiety. I was my own man
once more; and though I continued to walk the deck while our good ship
sped along in the night, it was only because there was a kind of wild
harmony between the mighty voice of the rolling billows of the Bay and
the unheard anthem of boundless hope that was singing in my breast.

I recollect that during my walk a hymn was always haunting me. It was
the same that we used to sing in the shuddering darkness of that
perpetual night, when we stood (fifty downhearted men) under the shelter
of our snow camp, with a ninety mile blizzard shrieking above us:

"_Lead, kindly Light, amid th' encircling gloom,
Lead Thou me on_."

But the light was within me now, and I knew as certainly as that the
good ship was under my feet that I was being carried home at the call of
the Spirit to rescue my stricken darling.

God keep her on her solitary way! England! England! England! Less than a
week and I should be there!

That was early hours on Saturday morning--the very Saturday when my poor
little woman, after she had been turned away by those prating
philanthropists, was being sheltered by the prostitute.

Let him explain it who can. I cannot.

M.C.

[END OF MARTIN CONRAD'S MEMORANDUM]

ONE HUNDRED AND THIRD CHAPTER

I must have been sitting a full hour or more on the end of my
bed--stunned, stupefied, unable to think--when Miriam, back from the
synagogue, came stealthily upstairs to say that a messenger had come for
me about six o'clock the night before.

"He said his name was Oliver, and father saw him, and that's how he came
to know. 'Tell her that her child is ill, and she is to come
immediately,' he said."

I was hardly conscious of what happened next--hardly aware of passing
through the streets to Ilford. I had a sense of houses flying by as they
seem to do from an express train; of my knees trembling; of my throat
tightening; and of my whole soul crying out to God to save the life of
my child until I