"I never expect to be either. When a man has all he has prided himself upon swept away from him, and all that he longs for denied him, how can it be possible?" "'Count it your highest good when God denies you.' Is that too hard a gospel? We shall not read it so in the light of eternity. It is only that Christ may become to us the 'altogether lovely' One." "Did you ever love--a woman?" Louis put the question suddenly, watching his friend's face with a jealous scrutiny. "Yes." The answer was as simple and straightforward as the man. He knew of nothing to be ashamed of in this beautiful love of his life. "And her name was?--" "Evadne." John Randolph spoke the name for the first time to another, looking up at the sky. When he turned to leave the room he saw that Louis' face was buried among his cushions and he drove away in a great wonderment. What could it all mean? "Knocking, knocking, who is there? Waiting, waiting, oh, how fair! 'T is a pilgrim, strange and kingly, Never such was seen before. Ah, my soul, for such a wonder, Wilt thou not undo the door?" Evadne sang the words softly in the twilight: sang them with a great note of longing in her pleading voice. She and her cousin were alone. "Evadne, come here." She crossed the room and knelt beside his couch. "Little coz, I have let the Pilgrim in." And Evadne buried her face in the cushions with a low cry. The crown of rejoicing was hers--at last! * * * * * "There is only one thing wanting between you two." Louis looked wistfully at John Randolph and Evadne, as they stood beside him, talking brightly of how he should help when he grew strong. "And what is that?" Doctor Randolph asked the question with a smile. Louis drew his ring from Evadne's finger and laid her hand in that of his friend. "Take her, Randolph, she is worthy of you. I would not say that of any other woman." With a great joy surging in his heart, John Randolph held out his other hand. She must give herself. He could not take her from another's giving. A lovely shyness flushed into the pure face, their eyes met, and Evadne laid her hand in his without a word. "Evadne!" The rich, tender tones fell throbbing through the silence, enwrapping the name in a sweet protectiveness. "Life is--for us--to do the will of God!" THE END. End of Project Gutenberg's A Beautiful Possibility, by Edith Ferguson Black