Presently I listened with interest renewed, because the pair which came into the Gallery was none other than the pair I had that morning watched in the Garden--the Arch Physician and the woman he called Mildred, though now I should hardly have known her, because she was so dressed up and disguised. She looked, indeed, a very splendid creature; not in the least like a plain woman. And this, I take it, was what these would-be great ladies desired--not to be taken as plain women. Yet they were, in spite of their fine clothes, plain and simple women just as much as any wench of Whitechapel in the old time. "Harry," she said, "I thank you from my very heart for coming. Now we shall have hope." "What hope?" he replied, "what hope? What can I do for you while the majority of the College continue to side with Grout? What hope can I bring you?" "Never mind the Majority. Consider, Harry. You have the Great Secret. Let us all go away together and found a new colony, where we will have no Grout; and we will live our own lives. Do you love me, Harry?" "Love you, Mildred? Oh"--he sighed deeply--"it is a stream that has been dammed up all these years!" "What keeps us here?" asked the girl. "It is that in your hands lies the Great Secret. Our people would be afraid to go without it. If we have it, Jack will take us to some island that he knows of across the seas. But we cannot go without the Secret. You shall bring it with you." "When could we go?" he asked, whispering. "We could go at any time--in a day--in a week--when you please. Oh, Harry, will you indeed rescue us? Will you come with us? Some of us are resolved to go--Secret or not. I am one of those. Will you let me go--alone?" "Is it impossible," he said, "that you should go without the Secret?" "Yes," she said; "the people would be afraid. But oh, to think of a new life, where we shall no longer be all the same, but different! Every one shall have his own possessions again--whatever he can win; every one his own profession; the women shall dress as they please; we shall have Art--and Music--and Poetry again. And--oh, Harry!"--she leaned her head upon his shoulder--"we shall have Love again. Oh, to think of it! Oh, to think of it! Love once more! And with Love, think of all the other things that will come back. _They must_ come back, Harry--the old Faith which formerly made us happy--" Her voice choked, and she burst into tears. I crouched behind the statues, listening. What did she cry about? The old Faith? She could have that if she wanted, I suppose, without crying over it. No law whatever against it. Dr. Linister said nothing, but I saw that he was shaking--actually shaking--and trembling all over. A most remarkable person! Who would have believed that weakness so lamentable could lie behind so much science?