“Do you remember I reproached you once for not having any purpose worth living for?” she asked, while her beautiful face seemed to Rollin more beautiful than ever when he had won sufficient self-control to look up.  “I want to say, I feel the need of saying, in justice to you now, that I honor you for your courage and your obedience to the promise you have made as you interpret the promise.  The life you are living is a noble one.”

Rollin trembled.  His agitation was greater than he could control.  Rachel could not help seeing it.  They walked along in silence.  At last Rollin said:  “I thank you.  It has been worth more to me than I can tell you to hear you say that.”  He looked into her face for one moment.  She read his love for her in that look, but he did not speak.

When they separated Rachel went into the house and, sitting down in her room, she put her face in her hands and said to herself:  “I am beginning to know what it means to be loved by a noble man.  I shall love Rollin Page after all.  What am I saying!  Rachel Winslow, have you forgotten—­”

She rose and walked back and forth.  She was deeply moved.  Nevertheless, it was evident to herself that her emotion was not that of regret or sorrow.  Somehow a glad new joy had come to her.  She had entered another circle of experience, and later in the day she rejoiced with a very strong and sincere gladness that her Christian discipleship found room in this crisis for her feeling.  It was indeed a part of it, for if she was beginning to love Rollin Page it was the Christian man she had begun to love; the other never would have moved her to this great change.

And Rollin, as he went back, treasured a hope that had been a stranger to him since Rachel had said no that day.  In that hope he went on with his work as the days sped on, and at no time was he more successful in reaching and saving his old acquaintances than in the time that followed that chance meeting with Rachel Winslow.

The summer had gone and Raymond was once more facing the rigor of her winter season.  Virginia had been able to accomplish a part of her plan for “capturing the Rectangle,” as she called it.  But the building of houses in the field, the transforming of its bleak, bare aspect into an attractive park, all of which was included in her plan, was a work too large to be completed that fall after she had secured the property.  But a million dollars in the hands of a person who truly wants to do with it as Jesus would, ought to accomplish wonders for humanity in a short time, and Henry Maxwell, going over to the scene of the new work one day after a noon hour with the shop men, was amazed to see how much had been done outwardly.