he will meet with the work he was born for, the work he is fretting his
soul for. He will be at last a gallant soldier of the Cross, unhampered
by any dread of his father's sin rising up against him. And we could
never part with Alice--her mother and I. You would be the last to say No
to that, Phebe?"

"Oh, yes!" she answered, with tears standing in her eyes, "Felix must go
with you."

"And Hilda, too," he went on; "for what would become of Hilda alone
here, with her only brother settled at the antipodes? And here we shall
want Phebe Marlowe's influence with old Mr. Clifford, who might prevent
his ward from quitting England. I am counting also on Phebe herself, as
my pearl of deaconesses, with no vow to bind her, if the happiness and
fuller life of marriage opened before her. Still, to secure all these
benefits I must give up all this."

He paused for a minute or two, looking back up the narrow side aisle,
and then, as if he could not tear himself away, he retraced his steps
slowly and lingeringly; and Phebe caught the glistening of tears in his
eyes.

"Never to see it again," he murmured, "or if I see it, not to belong to
it! To have no more right here than any other stranger! It feels like a
home to me, dear Phebe. I have had solemn glimpses of God here, as if it
were indeed the gate of heaven. To the last hour of my life, wherever I
go, my soul will cleave to these walls. But I shall give it up."

"Yes," she said, sighing, "but there is no bitterness of repentance to
you in giving it up."

"How sadly you spoke that," he went on, "as if a woman like you could
know the bitterness of repentance! You have only looked at it through
other men's eyes. Yes, we shall go. Felix and Hilda and you are free to
leave Mr. Clifford, now he is so admirably cared for by this Jean Merle.
I like all that I hear of him, though I never saw him; surely it was a
blessing from God that Madame Sefton's poor kinsman was brought to the
old man. Could we not leave him safely in Merle's charge?"

"Quite safely," she answered.

"I have a scheme for a new settlement in my head," he continued, "a
settlement of our own, and we will invite emigrants to it. I can reckon
on a few who will joyfully follow our lead, and it will not seem a
strange land if we carry those whom we love with us. This hour even I
have made up my mind to accept this bishopric. Go on, dear Phebe, and
tell my wife. I must stay here alone a little longer."

But Phebe did