"Do you think she would believe you?" he asked frankly. "Could you expect any woman to believe in your sincerity under such circumstances, upon such a mission? You would not be able to believe it yourself." "You are right!" Marien admitted after a moment of thought. "Once away from the restraining influence of your character, my true nature would reveal itself. I should hate her! I do hate her! No, I could not go!" "And so, you see,"—John did not finish the sentence but had recourse to a helpless smile and a pathetic shrug of the shoulders. Marien lowered her veil. The interview was running on and on. It must come to an end. "It all becomes uncanny," she exclaimed. "There is too much converging upon your heart. There must come a rift in the clouds. I have submitted to your compelling altruism but only for the present. If something does not happen within a reasonable limit of time, I shall positively and dangerously explode!" John smiled at the vehemence with which she spoke. "But in the meantime—silence!" he adjured impressively. "Yes," she assented reluctantly. "But at the same time I shall not know one gleam of happiness, one moment’s freedom from mental anguish until your vindication is flung widely to the world." "But in the meantime, silence!" reiterated John obstinately. "And in the meantime," she consented more resignedly, "silence!" "Good night, Marien," said the minister, putting out his hand. "Good night, Doctor Hampstead," she replied, seizing that hand impulsively, then flinging it from her again as she turned, without another glance, to the door. It closed behind her softly, considerately almost, but with that same decisive snap of the lock which had shut her in three quarters of an hour before. Hampstead stood a moment in reflection. She had come and she had gone, leaving behind a great sense of relief, of complexities unraveled, of good accomplished and of further danger averted. Of one thing he felt sure now; he would never go to prison. A way would be found to avoid that. Her vindictive malice had spent itself and been turned to an attempt at co-operation. But he was still under clouds: one the verdict of Judge Brennan, "Held to Answer"; the other less black, but larger and murkier, the cloud of public condemnation; and for the present he must remain under both. Besides which, there was his church and Elder Burbeck to consider. And to-morrow was Sunday! *CHAPTER XXXVIII* *SUNDAY IN ALL PEOPLE’S* Elder Burbeck did not make good his threat. Hampstead stood again in the pulpit of All People’s on Sunday, as his heart had so passionately desired.