"That is a very simple religion," Mrs. Burbeck concurred happily, "and it contains the larger fact of all religion. That is why Jesus went to the cross; because he was true. That was why the grave couldn’t hold him; because he was true. You cannot bury truth, nor brand it, nor photograph it, nor put its thumb prints in a book, nor put stripes upon it." Hampstead arose suddenly, enthusiasm kindling like the glow of inspiration upon his face. "That is why I still feel free—unscathed by what has happened," he exclaimed. "In a small and comparatively unimportant way it has been given to me to be true. Yes," he said, sitting down again and speaking very soberly, "I shall be true to the end—conviction, imprisonment even. Prison terms do not last forever; and every day spent there will be a witness to the fact that I am true." Exalted enthusiasm had passed on for a moment to a strained note that sounded like fanatical egotism. As if to check this Mrs. Burbeck asked quietly but with a significance that was arresting: "Are you strong enough, do you think?" For a moment the minister was thoughtful and something like a shudder of apprehension swept over him. "No," he replied humbly. "I begin to confess it to myself. The fear that I will weaken begins to come to me at times." "That is good," the Angel of the Chair commented surprisingly, gathering her scarf about her shoulders as she spoke. "It is better to be too weak than to be too strong. But strength will be given you. That is what I came to say. I feel strangely weak myself, to-day, and must be going now." "You should not have come," reproached the minister, as he helped Mori, the Japanese, to wheel her to the door; "and yet I am so glad you did come, for you have made me feel like some chivalrous champion of eternal right jousting in the lists against an impious Lucifer." For this the Angel gave him back a smile over the top of her chair, and the minister watched her out of sight, reflecting that in the few days since this strain upon them all began she had failed perceptibly, and recalling that never before had he heard her allude to her weakness or make her physical condition the excuse for anything she did or did not do. Within a quarter of an hour, so soon almost that it seemed as if he had been waiting for his wife to depart, Elder Burbeck was announced as the second caller at Doctor Hampstead’s door. For the five years of his eldership before the advent of Hampstead, Elder Burbeck had a record in the official board of never permitting any subject to be passed upon without a word from him, nor ever having allowed any question to be considered settled until it was settled according to the dictates of the thing he supposed to be his conscience.