um. "I may have to come," she added after a pause, "to do right
by you."

He read her meaning. "Thee will never come," he continued confidently.
He held out his hand. "Perhaps I shall see you in town," she rejoined,
as her hand rested in his, and she looked away. "When do you start for
Egypt?"

"To-morrow week, I think," he answered. "There is much to do."

"Perhaps we shall meet in town," she repeated. But they both knew they
would not.

"Farewell," he said, and picked up his hat.

As he turned again, the look in her eyes brought the blood to his face,
then it became pale. A new force had come into his life.

"God be good to thee," he said, and turned away.

She watched him leave the room and pass through the garden.

"David! David!" she said softly after him.

At the other end of the room her husband, who had just entered, watched
her. He heard her voice, but did not hear what she said.

"Come, Hylda, and have some music," he said brusquely.

She scrutinised him calmly. His face showed nothing. His look was
enigmatical.

"Chopin is the thing for me," he said, and opened the piano.

CHAPTER XXII. AS IN A GLASS DARKLY

It was very quiet and cool in the Quaker Meeting-house, though outside
there was the rustle of leaves, the low din of the bees, the whistle
of a bird, or the even tread of horses' hoofs as they journeyed on the
London road. The place was full. For a half-hour the worshippers had sat
voiceless. They were waiting for the spirit to move some one to speak.
As they waited, a lady entered and glided into a seat. Few saw, and
these gave no indication of surprise, though they were little used
to strangers, and none of the name borne by this lady had entered the
building for many years. It was Hylda.

At last the silence was broken. The wizened Elder, with eyes upon the
ceiling and his long white chin like ivory on his great collar, began to
pray, sitting where he was, his hands upon his knees. He prayed for all
who wandered "into by and forbidden paths." He prayed for one whose work
was as that of Joseph, son of Jacob; whose footsteps were now upon the
sea, and now upon the desert; whose way was set among strange gods and
divers heresies--"'For there must also be heresies, that they which are
approved may be made manifest among the weak.'" A moment more, and
then he added: "He hath been tried beyond his years; do Thou uphold his
hands. Once with a goad did we urge him on, when in ease and