always the same, in a faithful pertinacity that nothing could wholly discourage, in a routine that no projects could kindle into much enthusiasm.  Day after day she went about among the sick and the poor, relieving and counseling individuals, and tiring herself out in that personal service, and more and more conscious, when she had time, at night, for instance, to think, of the monstrous injustice somewhere, and at times in a mood of fierce revolt against the social order that made all this misery possible and hopeless.

Yet a great change had come into her life—­the greatest that can come to any man or woman in the natural order.  She loved and she was loved.  An ideal light had been cast upon her commonplace existence, the depths of her own nature had been revealed to herself.  In this illuminating light she walked about in the misery of this world.  This love must be denied, this longing of the heart for companionship could never be gratified, yet after all it was a sweet self-sacrifice, and the love itself brought its own consolation.  She had not to think of herself as weak, and neither was her lover’s image dimmed to her by any surrender of his own principle or his own ideal.  She saw him, as she had first seen him, a person consecrated and set apart, however much she might disagree with his supernatural vagaries—­set apart to the service of humanity.  She had bitter thoughts sometimes of the world, and bitter thoughts of the false system that controlled his conduct, but never of him.

It was unavoidable that she should recall her last interview with him, and that the image of his noble, spiritual face should be ever distinct in her mind.  And there was even a certain comfort in this recollection.

Father Damon had indeed striven, under the counsel of his own courage and of Brother Monies, to conquer himself on the field of his temptation.  But with his frail physique it was asking too much.  This at last was so evident that the good brother advised him, and the advice was in the nature of a command in his order, to retire for a while, and then take up his work in a fresh field.

When this was determined on, his desire was nearly irresistible to see Ruth Leigh; he thought it would be cowardly to disappear and not say good-by.  Indeed, it was necessary to see her and explain the stoppage of help from the Margaret Fund.  The check that he had drawn, which was returned, had been for one of Dr. Leigh’s cases.  With his failure to elicit any response from Mrs. Henderson, the hope, raised by the newspaper comments on the unexecuted will, that the fund would be renewed was dissipated.

In the interview which Father Damon sought with Dr. Leigh at the Women’s Hospital all this was explained, and ways and means were discussed for help elsewhere.

“I wanted to talk this over with you,” said Father Damon, “because I am going away to take a rest.”

“You need it, Father Damon,” was Ruth’s answer, in a professional manner.