--XIII--

REAL MONEY


The two women passed inside the cottage, Mrs. Thornton holding out her
hand again to the little lad; while Holmes and his wife followed
hesitantly, awed. In the rear, Thornton grasped Madison's arm suddenly.

"I never saw such a beautiful face," he whispered tensely. "It's
wonderful."

"Yes," assented Madison. "But everything here seems full of a rare,
strange beauty, a hallowed something--it lifts one beyond material
things. You _feel_ it--a great, calm solemnity all about you."

He closed the door softly behind him.

Mrs. Thornton's eyes swept questioningly, anxiously and a little timidly
about the plain, simple, quiet room; and then she spoke, her voice
unconsciously hushed:

"He--he is not here?"

Helena shook her head, as she led Mrs. Thornton to a chair.

"Not now," she said in a low voice. "The strain of this afternoon has
left him very weary and very tired--much has gone out of him in response