“Oh, I appreciate that in you!” she exclaimed.  “I wished you to know it.  I wished you to know,” she added, a little unsteadily, “how much I admire you for what you are doing.  They are afraid of you—­they will crush you if they can.”

He did not reply.

“But you are going to speak the truth,” she continued, her voice low and vibrating, “that is splendid!  It must have its effect, no matter what happens.”

“Do you feel that?” he asked, taking a step toward her.

“Yes.  When I see you, I feel it, I think.” . . .

Whatever answer he might have made to this was frustrated by the appearance of the figure of Nelson Langmaid in the doorway.  He seemed to survey them benevolently through his spectacles.

“How are you, Hodder?  Well, Alison, I have to leave without seeing anything of you—­you must induce your father not to bring his business home with him.  Just a word,” he added to the rector, “before you go up.”

Hodder turned to Alison.  “Good night,” he said.

The gentle but unmistakable pressure of her hand he interpreted as the pinning on him of the badge of her faith.  He was to go into battle wearing her colours.  Their eyes met.

“Good night,” she answered . . . .

In the hall the lawyer took his arm.

“What’s the trouble, Hodder?” he asked, sympathetically.

Hodder, although on his guard, was somewhat taken aback by the directness of the onslaught.

“I’m afraid, Mr. Langmaid,” the rector replied, “that it would take me longer to tell you than the time at your disposal.”

“Dear me,” said the lawyer, “this is too bad.  Why didn’t you come to me?  I am a good friend of yours, Hodder, and there is an additional bond between us on my sister’s account.  She is extremely fond of you, you know.  And I have a certain feeling of responsibility for you,—­I brought you here.”

“You have always been very kind, and I appreciate it,” Hodder replied.  “I should be sorry to cause you any worry or annoyance.  But you must understand that I cannot share the responsibility of my acts with any one.”

“A little advice from an old legal head is sometimes not out of place.  Even Dr. Gilman used to consult me.  I hope you will bear in mind how remarkably well you have been getting along at St. John’s, and what a success you’ve made.”

“Success!” echoed the rector.

Either Mr. Langmaid read nothing in his face, or was determined to read nothing.

“Assuredly,” he answered, benignly.  “You have managed to please everybody, Mr. Parr included,—­and some of us are not easy to please.  I thought I’d tell you this, as a friend, as your first friend in the parish.  Your achievement has been all the more remarkable, following, as you did, Dr. Gilman.  Now it would greatly distress me to see that state of things disturbed, both for your sake and others.  I thought I would just give you a hint, as you are going to see Mr. Parr, that he is in rather a nervous state.  These so-called political reformers have upset the market and started a lot of legal complications that’s why I’m here to-night.  Go easy with him.  I know you won’t do anything foolish.”