On this point his mind was perfectly clear. It was not yet, however, so clear upon issues still to be determined, such as "After the War" problems. He could not measure the stride about to be taken, provided militarism was crushed. He wondered constantly, with ever-increasing apprehension, whether love would triumph in the end, as he prayed that it might, creating a new world concerned with the happiness of the many, a world purged of the old insensate vanities and acrimonies. Mrs. Yellam received him, as usual, a shade more formally, perhaps, with a slight tightening of her lips. Hamlin began as the personal friend of long standing, assuring the mother that her son, in all probability, was not severely wounded, that good news might be expected shortly, that very soon Alfred might be with her, out of the danger zone for a season, and able to give attention to his business. But he perceived that he was wasting words and time. She listened respectfully, saying nothing. He guessed what ebullitions of feeling were suppressed. He had been tormented by her anxieties, by her doubts. The loss of his wife had been irreparable. And when his daughter left him alone in the Vicarage, with nothing to engross him but his work, an odd distaste of life had assailed him, a slackness which he fought tooth and nail. Till then he had hardly known fatigue, as it is known to all women, that dull apathy more mental than physical which questions means and ends, exaggerating the difficulties of the former and minimising the latter, an apathy continually whispering the sad words: _cui bono_? He knew how hard Mrs. Yellam had worked for her husband, her children, and in particular for Alfred. During the last ten years all ambition, all energies had been concentrated upon him alone. She had made unconsciously, a God of him. Hamlin rose up to deliver his message. Mrs. Yellam rose with him. "I missed you in church yesterday, and on Christmas Day." "One old 'ooman can't be missed, sir." His eyes not his voice softened. "You are mistaken, Mrs. Yellam. A woman of your character in this parish is missed--more than you think, perhaps." "If Alferd comes back, you'll see me in my pew again." "You have made that rash bargain with your God?" She said defiantly: "How do I know as He is my God? The Kayser claims Him." Hamlin gazed keenly at her. "If--if I left the matter there, Mrs. Yellam, in the firm hope and belief that God's way, inscrutable as they may appear to us when all our energies are at a low ebb, will in His time be made manifest, may I not ask you, as your parish priest, to consider the example to others, the many, possibly, who are wavering in faith as you are?" "Fancy Broomfield bid me think of that." "Did she? Poor girl, she is distracted with anxiety, like you. But her faith sustains her. Have you thought of what Fancy told you?" She answered him slowly, weighing her words: