And then came the choir. She watched their faces eagerly. Would she recognise Billy Burr? And which was Dickie Lowe? Ah! those two must be the golden-haired twins about whom Mr. Owen had told her and Charlie three years ago, now no longer the foremost in the little procession, but as unknowable apart as ever, as they preceded the tenors. And there, behind all, was Mr. Owen's familiar face! Denys knelt with all the congregation, waiting and longing to hear his deep, strong voice in the collects which began the service. But it was a curate who read the prayers, and the words passed unheeded over Denys's head, for her heart was back in Saltmarsh among the days when she had first known Mr. Owen and Charlie. So the music began and a voice rose plaintively-- "And they came to a place called Gethsemane." The words came into the midst of Denys's wandering thoughts with a startling suddenness. She saw again the darkness gathering under the trees, the black shadows of the bushes and the Easter moon above! "Could ye not watch with Me one brief hour?" How the voice rang down the church! What had she come there for? To think of Charlie--of her happiness? She could have stayed at home to do that. Was it for the music she had come? No, for mere music she would not have come out on this first evening of Charlie's return. For what had she come then? "Could ye not watch with Me one brief hour?" The tender words stole down into the depths of her heart and stirred it to a tenderness that she had never felt for her Saviour before. She seemed, as the organ sounded out the Processional to Calvary, to be one of the crowd gathering round the lonely figure in the Via Dolorosa, and to be passing out through the gates of the city with the triumphant song-- Fling wide the Gates! Fling wide the Gates! For the Saviour waits To tread in His royal way! He has come from above In His power and love, To die on this Passion Day. The triumph of it, and the humiliation of it engrossed her. How sweet is the grace of His sacred face, And lovely beyond compare! So with her eyes on His face, her feet following His pathway of sorrow, forgetful of all else, she went on with Him to the end. It was over! The congregation passed out again under the starlit, moonlit sky, and left the church with the words-- All for Jesus, all for Jesus! still echoing softly amid the arches of the roof. * * * * *