had suddenly accomplished the surprising feat of reviving the Church as a
burning, vital factor in the life of the community! He had discerned her
enemy, and defied his power . . . .

As for Hodder, so absorbed had he been by his experiences, so wrung by
the human contacts, the personal problems which he had sought to enter,
that he had actually given no thought to the battle before him until
the autumn afternoon, heavy with smoke, had settled down into darkness.
The weather was damp and cold, and he sat musing on the ordeal now
abruptly confronting him before his study fire when he heard a step
behind him. He turned to recognize, by the glow of the embers, the heavy
figure of Nelson Langmaid.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you, Hodder," he said. "The janitor said you
were in, and your door is open."

"Not at all," replied the rector, rising. As he stood for a moment
facing the lawyer, the thought of their friendship, and how it had begun
in the little rectory overlooking the lake at Bremerton, was uppermost in
his mind,--yes, and the memory of many friendly, literary discussions in
the same room where they now stood, of pleasant dinners at Langmaid's
house in the West End, when the two of them had often sat talking until
late into the nights.

"I must seem very inhospitable," said Hodder. "I'll light the lamp--it's
pleasanter than the electric light."

The added illumination at first revealed the lawyer in his familiar
aspect, the broad shoulders, the big, reddish beard, the dome-like head,
--the generous person that seemed to radiate scholarly benignity, peace,