For some weeks Amer resolutely put away the thought of the Radiant City, and would not listen to the Voice. In fact the Voice seemed, when he heard it at all, to be very far away, and he began to wonder how it was that its sound had ever stirred his soul. His new work, the thought that every day he was piling up money for the support of Gabrielle, together with the society of his old companions, filled his thoughts and his days, and if ever the remembrance of the step he had so nearly taken, intruded, he flung it aside. But was it his fancy that his Mother's face now and then wore an expression almost of disappointment when she looked at him? Was it fancy that even Gabrielle did not treat him in exactly the same manner as formerly? She looked up to him as above her in the old days, falling in with his suggestions, and following, in a great measure, his advice. But it seemed now as if there was sometimes a tinge of scorn in her words, as if he had fallen from some pedestal upon which she had placed him. During the day he was able to banish these thoughts and suspicions from his mind by the means of business or pleasure. But at night he would lie awake pondering over it, and at times a great loathing of himself took possession of him. He despised his want of decision. He had been weak, and had turned his back upon the enduring of hardships. Moreover the thought of the business he had undertaken lay at times like a dead weight on his spirit. Gradually there came a great depression over him, and he began to wonder if his soul would ever be stirred to its depths again by the sound of the Voice, and if ever again he would be given the chance of journeying towards the Radiant City. So great was his depression and his loathing of himself, that one day he started off to try and find the herald, but he was told that he had left Punon some weeks ago. Despondently Amer made his way home, but he could not rest. He went about his work listlessly, and gradually his old companions began to drop off from him. He was not as good company as he used to be. "Amer is not himself," said his father, "he is working too hard." But Amer suddenly found out that what was making him so restless and stirring his apparently dead soul again, was the Voice. "Come out from among them," it cried, "and be ye separate." Was it his imagination? Was it fancy? He was so miserable and so conscious of the sinfulness of himself and the unsatisfactoriness of his life, that after much agony of soul, he determined, even if it might be nothing but a morbid imagination, to start out for the Radiant City. Even if there was such a place, he had no very strong hopes that he would be allowed to enter it. The Great King, if there was a King, might not care to have him after his resolute turning aside before. But, notwithstanding his doubts, he decided to venture, and should there be a King, to throw himself on His mercy.