at man was even now only convalescent and therefore liable to relapse.
She had told herself that again and again during the night, but it had
been different when he had said so. His personality had once more
prevailed; and the name of Felsenburgh had finished the work.

"If He were but here!" she sighed. But she knew He was far away.

* * * * *

It was not until a quarter to eleven that she understood that the crowds
outside were clamouring for Him too, and that knowledge reassured her
yet further. They knew, then, these wild tigers, where their redemption
lay; they understood what was their ideal, even if they had not attained
to it. Ah! if He were but here, there would be no more question: the
sullen waves would sink beneath His call of peace, the hazy clouds lift,
the rumble die to silence. But He was away--away on some strange
business. Well; He knew His work. He would surely come soon again to His
children who needed Him so terribly.

* * * * *

She had the good fortune to be alone in a crowd. Her neighbour, a
grizzled old man with his daughters beyond, was her only neighbour, and
a stranger. At her left rose up the red-covered barricade over which she
could see the sanctuary and the curtain; and her seat in the tribune,
raised some eight feet above the floor, removed her from any possibility
of conversation. She was thankful for that: she did not want to talk;
she wanted only to control her faculties in silence, to reassert her
faith, to look out over this enormous throng gathered to pay homage to
the great Spirit whom they had betrayed, to renew her own courage and
faithfulness. She wondered what the preacher would say, whether there
would be any note of penitence. Maternity was his subject--that benign
aspect of universal life--tenderness, love, quiet, receptive, protective
passion, the spirit that soothes rather than inspires, that busies
itself with peaceful tasks, that kindles the lights and fires of home,
that gives sleep, food and welcome....

The bell stopped, and in the instant before the music began she heard,
clear above the murmur within, the roar of the crowds outside, who still
demanded their God. Then, with a crash, the huge organ awoke, pierced by
the cry of the trumpets and the maddening throb of drums. There was no
delicate prelude here, no slow stirring of life rising through
labyrinths of mystery to the climax of sight--here rather was full-orbed
day, the high noon of knowledge and power,