The fragrance of a flower stole from his bedroom into the laboratory.  He smiled as he recognized it.

“I have not seen the flower,” he said, “but its undoubted witness is here.  I do not see Thee, Jesus, my Lord and my God, but I believe Thee!—­Thou art here.”  And he worshiped Him.

CHAPTER VI

MR. FROTHINGHAM AND THE CHOIR REHEARSAL

Unsympathetic Nature was still in tears when the next morning broke upon Hubert’s new-found joy.  But so ardent was it that no weather could dampen it.  His first waking thoughts were of the marvelous treasure he had found.  A new life stretched out before him.  He was a new man.  He had entered into a new world whose center of gravity was in heaven, “where Christ is,” and an indescribable, exultant gladness filled his soul.  He had received Him, the divine Visitant from that other world, and his own soul was quickened with the life He brought.  Henceforth he claimed kinship with Him and with the Father.  A new motive power of living had entered into his being.  He was not conscious of prayer, but it was in his heart, making response to the revelation which had come to him, “Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do?” The new realm must have its own laws of living, very contrary to those of this world, and he would know them.

First of all there was a simple, straightforward task before him and he was eager to discharge it.  So after a hasty toilet he went down to the library where he rightly surmised he should find his father—­also an early riser—­and presented himself at the other side of the table before him.

“Eh!  Good morning, Hubert,” said Mr. Gray, as he looked up from his reading.

“Good morning, father,” said Hubert.  And he added, “I have something to tell you.”

“Really?  I hope there is no ill news?” Mr. Gray’s first thought was of business, but a second glance at Hubert’s face showed there was no unpleasant message to communicate.  And there was a strange expression on his son’s face.  He had never seen it before—­not, at least, since Hubert was a boy.  No, not even then.  What was it?

Hubert answered his father’s questions of word and searching look.

“No, father,” he said, “it is far from ill news.  It is this:  I am no longer a sceptic.  I believe in the Lord Jesus Christ.”

“Eh?  What?  Hubert!”

The older man’s face passed in lightning changes from stages of wonder to joy, and he sprang from his chair.  He grasped his son’s hand across the table.

“Hubert!” he repeated, “my dear boy!”

His voice choked on the last word.  A certain strain of Scottish blood forbade a warmer demonstration, but the two men’s hand-clasp was eloquent.  Presently Mr. Gray asked Hubert to be seated and tell him all about it, wondering much meanwhile at the change very often sighed for but seldom expected.