“Before that meeting was over I was on my knees praying beside the girl whom I had designed to ruin.  I went into the streets a converted man, filled with the grace of God.  I resolved to devote my life to saving souls for Christ.  My old habits of sin fell away from me like a garment.  I studied for the ministry.  I am now in deacon’s orders, and I am the incumbent of a little tin mission church in Hoxton.  God moves in a mysterious way, Sir Marcus.”

“He is generally credited with doing so,” said I, stupidly.

“You are doubtless wondering, Sir Marcus,” he went on, “why I placed such a long interval between my awakening and my communicating with my wife.  I set myself a period of probation.  I desired to be assured of God’s will.  It was essential that I should test my strength of purpose, and my power of making a life’s atonement, as far as the things of this world are concerned, for the wrongs I have inflicted on her.  I have come now to offer her a Christian home.”

I looked at him open-mouthed.

“Do you expect Judith to go and live with you as your wife, in Hoxton?” I asked, bluntly.

“Why not?  She is my wife.”

I rose and walked about the room in agitation.  Somehow such a contingency had not entered my bewildered head.

“Why not, Sir Marcus?” he repeated.

“Because Judith isn’t that kind of woman at all,” I said, desperately.  “She doesn’t like Hoxton, and would be as much out of place in a tin-mission church as I should be in a cavalry charge.”

“God will see to her fitness,” said he, gravely.  “To him all things are easy.”

“But she has considerable philosophic doubt as to his personal existence,” I cried.

He smiled prophetically and waved away her doubt with a gesture.

“I have no fears on that score,” he observed.

“But it is preposterous,” I objected once more, changing my ground; “Judith craves the arrears of gaiety and laughter which your conduct caused life to leave owing to her.  She loves bright dresses, cigarettes, and wine and the things that are anathema in an Evangelical household.”

“My wife will find the gaiety and laughter of holiness,” replied the fanatic.  “She will not be stinted of money to dress herself with becoming modesty; and as for alcohol and tobacco, no one knows better than myself how easy it is to give them up.”

“You seem as merciless in your virtues as you were in your vices,” said I.

“I have to bring souls to Christ,” he answered.

“That doesn’t appear to be the way,” I retorted, “to bring them.”

“Pray remember, Sir Marcus,” said he, bending his brows upon me, “that I did not ask you for suggestions as to the conduct of my ministry.”