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Only Margaret Thurston knew who spoke three times that word never to be forgotten, once a terrible rebuke, now and evermore a benediction. So went home the last of the Colchester martyrs. As Mr Ewring turned back, he caught sight of Dorothy Denny, and made his way back to her. "You come to behold, do you, Dorothy?" said he, when they had turned into a quiet side street, safe from hostile ears.

Thurston died soon after this, and, his death occurring at a moment when party strife in the Church was fiercer than ever, it was considered expedient by the Lord Chancellor, in whose gift the living was, to appoint a more moderate man than the late vicar.

Peter Dillon handed Bab an envelope addressed to "Miss Barbara Thurston," looking at her searchingly as he did so. Bab colored hotly under his almost impertinent scrutiny as she reached out her hand for the envelope. She had an uncomfortable feeling at that moment that perhaps Peter Dillon knew as much about the contents of the envelope as she did. "Thank you, Mr. Dillon," she said in a low voice.

To two other places the cry penetrated: to Agnes Bongeor weeping in the Moot Hall because she was shut out from that blessed company; and to Margaret Thurston in her "better lodging" in the Castle, who had shut herself out, and had bought life by the denial of her Lord. The time is not far-off when we too shall be asked to choose between these two alternatives. Which shall it be with you?

It was very cold, darkness was closing down on the deep hollow among the hills, and some little distance up the ascending line, a huge freight locomotive was waiting with a string of cars behind it in a side track. Thurston pointed to the fan-shaped blaze of the great head lamp. "We have timed it well. They're expecting your train now," he said. "I am glad," was Millicent's answer.

Now that I have awakened your thoughts, I know that you will not further risk the peace of that confiding girl. Come! take my hand and let us return. We must hasten, too, for there is rain in that cloud." Thurston piqued that he could not trouble her more for under her calm and unruffled face he could not see the bleeding heart arose sullenly, drew her hand within his arm and led her forth.

But there is something I wish to warn you about, for it concerns us all intimately. We are in danger of an awful mix-up if we don't look out. Mr. Thurston I had almost said my husband, though I don't know whether that is the truth or not who has just come over from New York, tells me that there is some doubt about the validity of our divorce.

Thurston explained that they were, after all, only poor human clay like the rest of mankind, and to prepare for a Second Coming in general, something that might descend upon the world, say, in a hundred years' time, was very different from a Judgment that might be expected, definitely, in about three weeks. One or two of them, in fact, had left the Chapel.

Melchizedek alone sprang from the gig, and sank trembling and quaking at his master's feet. Thurston blindly pushed past him, and peered and felt in the gig. It was empty. "Where is the lady, sirrah? What ails you? Why don't you answer me?" exclaimed Thurston, anxiously returning to the spot where the boy crouched. But the latter remained speechless, trembling, groaning, and wringing his hands.

The article is progressing but slowly. To paraphrase Talleyrand, what's done is but little and that little is not good. However, since your last letter full of such excellent "tips" I have rewritten it and think it is much improved. I will write to Thurston concerning the artist to-morrow. He is away from B. at present. On the whole the article is not bad. Your boy, DICK.