She reached the pew, hesitated an instant, and slipped forward on her knees.  Years had gone by since she had prayed, and even now she made no attempt to translate into words the intensity of her yearning—­for what?  Hodder’s success, for one thing,—­and by success she meant that he might pursue an unfaltering course.  True to her temperament, she did not look for the downfall of the forces opposed to him.  She beheld him persecuted, yet unyielding, and was thus lifted to an exaltation that amazed. . .  If he could do it, such a struggle must sorely have an ultimate meaning!  Thus she found herself, trembling, on the borderland of faith. . .

She arose, bewildered, her pulses beating.  And presently glancing about, she took in that the church was fuller than she ever remembered having seen it, and the palpitating suspense she felt seemed to pervade, as it were, the very silence.  With startling abruptness, the silence was broken by the tones of the great organ that rolled and reverberated among the arches; distant voices took up the processional; the white choir filed past,—­first the treble voices of the boys, then the deeper notes of the—­men,—­turned and mounted the chancel steps, and then she saw Hodder.  Her pew being among the first, he passed very near her.  Did he know she would be there?  The sternness of his profile told her nothing.  He seemed at that moment removed, set apart, consecrated—­this was the word that came to her, and yet she was keenly conscious of his presence.

Tingling, she found herself repeating, inwardly, two, lines of the hymn

          “Lay hold on life, and it shall be
          Thy joy and crown eternally.”

“Lay hold on life!”

The service began,—­the well-remembered, beautiful appeal and prayers which she could still repeat, after a lapse of time, almost by heart; and their music and rhythm, the simple yet magnificent language in which. they were clothed—­her own language—­awoke this morning a racial instinct strong in her,—­she had not known how strong.  Or was it something in Hodder’s voice that seemed to illumine the ancient words with a new meaning?  Raising her eyes to the chancel she studied his head, and found in it still another expression of that race, the history of which had been one of protest, of development of its own character and personality.  Her mind went back to her first talk with him, in the garden, and she saw how her intuition had recognized in him then the spirit of a people striving to assert itself.

She stood with tightened lips, during the Apostles’ Creed, listening to his voice as it rose, strong and unfaltering, above the murmur of the congregation.

At last she saw him swiftly crossing the chancel, mounting the pulpit steps, and he towered above her, a dominant figure, his white surplice sharply outlined against the dark stone of the pillar.  The hymn died away, the congregation sat down.  There was a sound in the church, expectant, presaging, like the stirring of leaves at the first breath of wind, and then all was silent.