“She is one of us,” said the old woman.

Then the preacher laid his hand upon her head, and blessed her.

“Continue in prayer, and listen to the testimony of the Holy Ghost,” said he.  “Then shall you surely come deep into the blessed knowledge and the dear love of Jesus Christ.”

When he had passed on, Victor paused in turn.

“It is good to be here, Jacqueline,” said he. ’"This is the house of God; this is the gate of heaven.”

And he also went forth, whither Mazurier had gone.

Then beside the bed of the poor wool-comber women like angels ministered, binding up his wounds, and soothing him with voices soft as ever spoke to man.  And from the peasant whose toil was in harvest-fields and vineyards came offers of assistance which the poor can best give the poor.

But the wool-comber did not need the hard-earned pence of Jacqueline.  When she said, “Let me serve you now, as a daughter and a sister, you two,”—­he made no mistake in regard to her words and offer.  But he had no need of just such service as she stood prepared to render.  In his toil he had looked forward to the seasons of adversity,—­had provided for a dark day’s disablement; and he was able now to smile upon his mother and on Jacqueline, and to say,—­

“I will, indeed, be a brother to you, and my mother will love you as if you were her child.  But we shall not take the bread from your mouth to prove it.  Our daughter and our sister in the Lord, we thank you and love you, Jacqueline.  I know what you have been doing since I went away.  The Lord love you, Jacqueline!  You will no longer be a stranger and friendless in Meaux, while John Leclerc and his mother are alive,—­nay, as long as a true man or woman lives in Meaux.  Fear not.”

“I will not fear,” said Jacqueline.

And she sat by the side of the mother of Leclerc, and thought of her own mother in the heavens, and was tranquil, and prepared, she said to herself, to walk, if indeed she must, through the valley of the shadow of death, and would still fear no evil.

IX.

Strengthened and inspired by the scenes of the last three days, Martial Mazurier began to preach with an enthusiasm, bravery, and eloquence unknown before to his hearers.  He threw himself into the work of preaching, the new revelation of the ancient eternal Truth, with an ardor that defied authority, that scorned danger, and with a recklessness that had its own reward.

Victor Le Roy was his ardent admirer, his constant follower, his loving friend, his servant.  Day by day this youth was studying with indefatigable zeal the truths and doctrines adopted by his teacher.  Enchanted by the wise man’s eloquence, already a convert to the faith he magnified, he was prepared to follow wherever the preacher led.  The fascination of danger he felt, and was allured by.  Frowning faces had for him no terrors.  He could defy evil.