They were alone together, these two. The great crowd of the congregation
had already gone away; those that remained were each one so intensely
occupied with prayer or adoration that they paid no heed to others.

"I feel--light," said Toyner.

"Dear fellow," said the preacher, "the devil has gone out of you. You
are free now because you are the slave of Christ. Begin your service to
him by praising God!"

Toyner stayed a week longer in the place, lodging with the young
preacher. Day and night they were close together. A change had come to
Toyner. It was a miracle. The young preacher believed in such miracles,
and because he believed he saw them often.

Toyner trembled and hoped, and at length he too believed. He believed
that as long as he willingly obeyed God his old habits would not triumph
over him. The physical health which so often comes like a flood and
replaces disease at the shrines of idol temples, of Romish saints, or,
at the many Protestant homes for faith-healing, had undoubtedly come to
Bart Toyner. The stomach that had been inflamed and almost useless, now
produced in him a regular appetite for simple nourishing food. The
craving for strong drink had passed away, and with his whole mind and
heart he threw himself into such service as he believed to be acceptable
to God and the condition upon which he held his health and his freedom.
At the end of the week Toyner went home to face the old life again with
no safe-guard but the new inward strength. No one there believed in his
reformation. He had lost money for his father in his last debauch; the
man who was virtually a partner would not trust him again. He had a