Winifred roused from her statue-like stillness as the door closed behind him. The heavy breath of odorous flowers stole in through an open window and sickened her. For years after she could not dissociate their fragrance from the sorrow of that hour. She turned to the piano. He had left his music--and he would never come back for it! She turned away and climbed the stairs with heavy steps to her own room. And there we will leave her, where, after the battle, a heavenly Visitor was to come forth with bread and wine for her refreshing. CHAPTER XIII EXPERIENCE Winifred's heart did not break. Or, if it broke, it was quickly healed, for there dwelt in the house One whose office it is to bind up the broken-hearted. It was not that she did not grieve, or that no void cried out again and again to be filled. But she learned a paradox as the days went on: of an inexplicable peace beneath the sharpest pain, and of a buoyant joy that would not be held down by sorrow. Hubert looked on, making mental notes as to what had happened, but asking no questions. Our trio of young people who had entered a life of worship found their hearts impelling them toward fields of service also. Winifred sought in many quiet ways to make known to others Him whom she had come to know with such delight, and a casual visit from Adele one day threw light upon the occupation of the others. "By the way, Winifred," Miss Forrester said, apropos of some topic discussed, "your brother gave a splendid talk at the Cleary Street Mission last night. Oh, you ought to have heard him! It was fine!" Winifred opened her eyes widely. "Hubert at the Mission last night? He never told me." "I suspect he doesn't let his left hand know what his right hand is doing," suggested Adele. "But he certainly was there. And when Mr. McBride asked him to speak he promptly did so. It was splendid! Not simply what he said, you know, but the fact that he said it--a business man talking in a matter-of-fact, business way to other men of something he evidently thought the most important matter in the world. Of course most of the people were of a far different class from his, but you would never guess it from his words. He didn't patronize them a bit. I liked that so much. And you should have seen how those men fastened their eyes on him and listened to what he said." "How lovely!" cried Winifred. "I wish I had been there. But pray tell me, Adele, how happens it that you were there?" "Oh, I am a regular attendant in Cleary Street," said Adele laughing. "At least I go regularly on certain nights in the week and play the organ--a wretched, squeaky, little thing--and raise my voice on Sankey hymns also." "You do!" cried Winifred with a mixture of amusement, dismay and admiration in her voice. "Well, I declare!"