When the Maréchale at length plucked up heart to revisit England, after a long absence and silence, her steps were directed to the home of a dear friend and kindred spirit in South London. It was in early girlhood that Mrs. Holman of Jerviston was first attracted to the Maréchale. Her mother had, as Lady Mayoress, invited Miss Booth, before the work began in France, to address a drawing-room meeting in her house, and the indelible impressions made on a receptive mind on that day proved an inspiration to a lifetime of quiet and devoted service of Christ. But so timid and dejected had the Maréchale become that she dreaded the reception that might await her even in the home of a lifelong friend! She trembled as she dragged herself across Streatham Common. She sat down on a seat and—her ruling passion strong as ever—spoke to a beggar about his soul, feeling a certain new kinship with all outcasts and pariahs. When she stood before her friend’s door she scarcely had courage to ring the bell, and if she had been told to go to the kitchen and have a cup of tea with the servants, she would have answered quite simply, "Yes, I will go." But Mr. Holman himself opened the door, and his hearty welcome and the outflow of a perfect sympathy at once cast all her fears to the winds. Her friends were ministering angels to her. They nursed her back to health, dried her tears, and made her smile. Their little daughter—now one of the sweetest singers in London—carolled to her every morning and awoke "the hallelujah bird" again in her own breast. And God Himself was meanwhile doing for her what even the best of friends could not do—giving her the Resurrection Life, re-animating her hope, baptising her afresh with the Spirit, not of fear, but of power and of love, breaking all shackles and making her free—free from the ensnaring fear of man, free to obey the Divine call she had received even as a child—woman’s Pentecostal call to prophesy for Christ, her one and only Master. _Aller An fang ist schwer_, and the difficulties which the Maréchale encountered at the resumption of her work were enough to make any but the stoutest heart faint. If she had in the past shown a bravery transcending that of even the bravest all this was of small account compared to the heroism now required of her. In the past she had the help of her own people, her spiritual children, and a strong organization back of her. Now she was utterly alone, thousands all over the world had an erroneous conception of the entire situation, and many even believed she had made shipwreck of her faith. Her daughter Victoria stands out during that lonely period of beginnings. With remarkably clear judgment, discernment and sympathy she cheered and inspired her mother with her own enthusiastic hopefulness and vivid faith.