"No, Phil," she answered softly, "do you remember what Monica told her
son? 'Not where he is, shalt thou be, but where thou art he shall be.'"

He shook his head, sighing.

"I ought not to have touched on that matter, mother. You know that I am
trying to follow my conscience."

"Yes, I cling to that. I should be miserable if I did not believe that
your way and my way will come together somewhere, on this side or the
other; and I bid you Godspeed on whatever way you go with prayerful
conviction."

A sudden impulse leaped up within him, and it was almost as if some
voice not his own spoke through his lips, so little was he conscious of
meaning to ask such a question.

"Even if the way led to Home?"

Mrs. Ashe grew paler, but her eyes steadfastly met those of her son.

"I trust you in the hands of God," she said.

Late that night Philip woke from a heavy sleep into which fatigue had
plunged him. He reached out his arm, and drew aside the curtain near
his bed, so that he might see the window of his mother's chamber. A
faint light was shining there; and he knew that the beams of the candle
fell on his mother on her knees.