“Whoever will,” she answered. “How do you mean?” “Whoever will wait like the saint upon the pillar, will suffer like the traveller in the desert; serve like a slave, and demand like a king; have patience greater than Job; love ceaseless as a fountain in the hills; who sees in the darkness and is not afraid of light; who distrusts not, neither believes, but stands ready to be taught; who is prepared for a kiss this hour and a reproach the next; who turneth neither to right nor left at her words, but hath an unswerving eye--these shall understand a woman.” “I never knew you so philosophical. Where did you get this deliverance on the subject?” “May not even a woman have a moment of inspiration?” “I should expect that of my wife.” “And I should expect that of my husband. It is trite to say that men are vain; I shall remark that they sit so much in their own light that they are surprised if another being crosses their disc.” “You always were clever, my dear, and you always were twice too good for me.” “Well, every woman--worth the knowing--is a missionary.” “Where does Lali come in?” “Can you ask? To justify the claims of womanhood in spite of race--and all.” “To bring one man to a sense of the duty of sex to sex, eh?” “Truly. And is she not doing it well? See her now.” They were now just leaving the church, and Lali had taken General Armour’s arm, while Richard led his mother to the carriage. Lali was moving with a little touch of grandeur in her manner and a more than ordinary deliberation. She had had a moment of great weakness, and then there had come the reaction--carried almost too far by the force of the will. She was indeed straining herself too far. Four years of tension were culminating. “See her now, Edward,” repeated Mrs. Lambert. “Yes, but if I’m not mistaken, my dear, she is doing so well that she’s going to pieces. She’s overstrung to-day. If it were you, you’d be in hysterics.” “I believe you are right,” was the grave reply. “There will be an end to this comedy one way or another very soon.” A moment afterwards they were in a carriage rolling away to Greyhope. CHAPTER XV. THE END OF THE TRAIL When Marion was about leaving with her husband for the railway station, she sought out Lali, and found her standing half hidden by the curtains of a window, looking out at little Richard, who was parading his pony up and down before the house. An unutterable sweetness looked out of Marion’s eyes. She had found, as it seemed to her, and as so many have believed until their lives’ end, the secret of existence. Lali saw the glistening joy, and responded to it, just as it was in her being to respond to every change of nature--that sensitiveness was in her as deep as being. “You are very happy, dear?” she said to Marion. “You cannot think how happy, Lali. And I want to say that I feel sure that you will yet be as happy, even happier than I. Oh, it will come--it will come. And you have the boy now-so fine, so good.”