There was a dead silence for a minute. The passion died out of Mrs. Gordon's eyes. She resumed her seat, and Dr. Fergusson gently put his hand on her shoulder. "Helen, your love for your child will save you from trying to ruin her." Mrs. Gordon remained silent. "You are a little unhinged by your anxiety; you do not really mean what you say." "I mean every word of it," she said huskily. "I don't know why I said it, though!" "I want to ask you a question." Dr. Fergusson's tone was very grave. "Have you ever prayed since your husband's death?" She looked straight at him as she replied shortly, "Never." "Then I want you to do so now, with me. Don't speak. I tell you, I will not undertake to see little Sunnie through this operation, unless you kneel down with me and commit her into God's care and keeping." "I cannot pray to One whom I have lost faith in!" "'If we believe not, yet He abideth faithful,'" quoted Dr. Fergusson sadly. "You are a miserable woman, Helen, and in your misery, you are actually contemplating dragging your happy little child—as you express it—down to your own level. Is this a mother's work? Do you see what your wild words signify? Look back to your own childhood, and remember your absolute, unquestioning faith, your confidence and love and trust in God above. I knew you in those days, and I remember. Let us kneel together, and ask for that old faith to be given back to you. God is love. He understands. He pities, and He will forgive." In another moment, Dr. Fergusson was on his knees in that drawing-room, and yielding to his almost magnetic influence, when again he put his hand on her shoulder, Mrs. Gordon followed his example. His few quiet words had shown her herself in a startling light. And then the strong man by her side poured out his soul in earnest, almost heart-broken supplication for her. It was a prayer that seemed to bring God Himself down to wrestle with the powers of darkness that surrounded the soul of one of His creatures. And Leslie Fergusson knew that there was a desperate issue at stake. He knew that the woman beside him had come to a crisis in her life. If ever her pride was to be broken down, and she was to take the place of a supplicant instead of an injured sufferer, if ever her darkness was to be turned into light, and her rebellious discontent transformed into the peace that passes understanding, that time would be now. It was no wonder that he wrestled in prayer, no wonder that his soul rose in all its strength and importunity, and laid hold of the Hand that moves the world. As Mrs. Gordon listened to the effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man, she felt indeed that it would avail much. Let us leave them. If the woman with seven devils in her was brought to the feet of her Saviour, and rid of her tormentors, would He be less ready to receive and pardon one who was likewise brought to His feet by one of His servants?