“Let it be seen at least that England is not behind the nations in this work of reformation; let no national isolation, pride of race, or drunkenness of wealth hold her hands back from this enormous work.  The responsibility is incalculable, but the victory certain.  Let us go softly, humbled by the knowledge of our crimes in the past, confident in the hope of our achievements in the future, towards that reward which is in sight at last—­the reward hidden so long by the selfishness of men, the darkness of religion, and the strife of tongues—­the reward promised by one who knew not what he said and denied what he asserted—­Blessed are the meek, the peacemakers, the merciful, for they shall inherit the earth, be named the children of God, and find mercy.”

* * * * *

Oliver, white to the lips, with his wife kneeling now beside him, turned the page and read one more short paragraph, marked as being the latest news.

“It is understood that the Government is in communication with Mr. Felsenburgh.”

II

“Ah! it is journalese,” said Oliver, at last, leaning back.  “Tawdry stuff!  But—­but the thing!”

Mabel got up, passed across to the window-seat, and sat down.  Her lips opened once or twice, but she said nothing.

“My darling,” cried the man, “have you nothing to say?”

She looked at him tremulously a moment.

“Say!” she said.  “As you said, What is the use of words?”

“Tell me again,” said Oliver.  “How do I know it is not a dream?”

“A dream,” she said.  “Was there ever a dream like this?”

Again she got up restlessly, came across the floor, and knelt down by her husband once more, taking his hands in hers.

“My dear,” she said, “I tell you it is not a dream.  It is reality at last.  I was there too—­do you not remember?  You waited for me when all was over—­when He was gone out—­we saw Him together, you and I. We heard Him—­you on the platform and I in the gallery.  We saw Him again pass up the Embankment as we stood in the crowd.  Then we came home and we found the priest.”

Her face was transfigured as she spoke.  It was as of one who saw a Divine Vision.  She spoke very quietly, without excitement or hysteria.  Oliver stared at her a moment; then he bent forward and kissed her gently.

“Yes, my darling; it is true.  But I want to hear it again and again.  Tell me again what you saw.”

“I saw the Son of Man,” she said.  “Oh! there is no other phrase.  The Saviour of the world, as that paper says.  I knew Him in my heart as soon as I saw Him—­as we all did—­as soon as He stood there holding the rail.  It was like a glory round his head.  I understand it all now.  It was He for whom we have waited so long; and He has come, bringing Peace and Goodwill in His hands.  When He spoke, I knew it again.  His voice was as—­as the sound of the sea—­as simple as that—­as—­as lamentable—­as strong as that.—­Did you not hear it?”