to truth, its millions of to-day but a symbol of the millions
gone before and the trampling millions to come, and I felt I was
a failure. I felt that I was pitching straws against a hurricane,
only to find them blown back into my face. I came down out of that
pulpit with the weariness of a thousand years crushing my tired
body and soul, feeling that I could never speak again, or struggle
against the tide any more--that I was broken, bruised and done for
all time, and I came home feeling so--"

He paused a moment and a sigh caught his voice. His wife's face
had softened and a tear was quivering on her long eyelashes.

"I came home thus worn out to-night hoping for a word of cheer,
yet knowing it would be days before I could recover from the sheer
nerve-agony I had endured. What a reception you have given me! And
for what? A beautiful woman stopped to tell me my message had not
been in vain, that it had made for her a light on life's way, and
that the prayers in which I had tried to realise as my own, the
people's thoughts and hopes and fears had been a revelation to her,
and because I smiled--"

His wife was again staring at him with the glitter of jealousy. He
saw it and ceased to speak.

He suddenly sprang to his feet and walked to the door. Taking down
his hat and light overcoat from the rack, he said, as though to
himself:

"We will spend the night under different roofs."