He stepped in through the long window, and there was Madam Fulton, half laughing, half crying, and shaking all over. He ran to her in affectionate alarm. "Billy," said she, "I've had a temper fit." Billy put his arm about her and took her to the sofa. There he sat down beside her, and she dropped her head on his shoulder. "Shoulders are still very strengthening, Billy," said she, laughing more than she cried, "even at our age." "They're something to lean on," said Billy. "There! there, dear! there!" Presently she laughed altogether, with no admixture of tears, and Billy got out his handkerchief and wiped her face. But she still shook, from time to time, and he was troubled for her. "Now," she said presently, withdrawing from him and patting her white hair, "Now I think we've weathered it." "What was it?" ventured Billy. "I can't tell you now. I might die a-laughing. But I will." She rested her hand on his shoulder a moment before she went away. "I'll tell you what it is, Billy," she said, "the beauty of you is you're so human. You're neither good nor bad. You're just human." XIII Markham Macleod's great advantage, after that of his wonderful physique, was his humility. A carping humorist, who saw him dispassionately, the more so that women were devoted to "the chief," said that humility was his long suit. There was his splendid body, instinct with a magnetic charm. He was born, charlatans told him, to be a healer. But he deprecated his own gifts. With a robust humor he disclaimed whatever he had done, and listened to other voices, in specious courtesy. Now, face to face with Electra, he had convinced her in five seconds that it was an illuminating thing to come to America and find her there. This was more than the pliancy of the man of the world. It seemed to her the spontaneous tribute of a sincere and lofty mind. As for her, she was abounding in a tremulous satisfaction. "You have not been in America for a long time," she was saying. "Not for years. I have been too busy to come." "You are needed over there." She glowed the more, and he looked upon her kindly as a handsome young woman whose enthusiasm became her. He smiled and shook his head. "I don't know whether they wanted me so much. I needed them." "Your brothers, you mean. The units that make your brotherhood." She was quoting from his last reported speech, and her spirits rose as she felt how glad she was to have been ready. It seemed to her that there were so many things she had to say at once that they would come tumultuously. MacLeod, when his position was assured, was quite willing to let the disciple talk. It was only over ground not yet tilled that his eloquence fell like rain. And Electra, leaning toward him in a brilliant, even a timid expectation, was saying,-- "Tell me about Russia. What do you foresee?"