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 duty and be true to that. I shall try to be that in this case—even to conviction!"

The sheen upon the face of the woman as she listened was as great as the glow upon the face of the man as he spoke.

"That is a very simple religion," Mrs. Burbeck concurred happily, "and it contains the larger fact of all religion. That is why Jesus went to the cross; because he was true. That was why the grave couldn't hold him; because he was true. You cannot bury truth, nor brand it, nor photograph it, nor put its thumb prints in a book, nor put stripes upon it."

Hampstead arose suddenly, enthusiasm kindling like the glow of inspiration upon his face. "That is why I still feel free—unscathed by what has happened," he exclaimed. "In a small and comparatively unimportant way it has been given to me to be true. Yes," he said, sitting down again and speaking very soberly, "I shall be true to the end—conviction, imprisonment even. Prison terms do not last forever; and every day spent there will be a witness to the fact that I am true." Exalted enthusiasm had passed on for a moment to a strained note that sounded like fanatical egotism.

As if to check this Mrs. Burbeck asked quietly but with a significance that was arresting:

"Are you strong enough, do you think?"

For a moment the minister was thoughtful and something like a shudder of apprehension swept over him.

"No," he replied humbly. "I begin to confess it to myself. The fear that I will weaken begins to come to me at times."

"That is good," the Angel of the Chair commented surprisingly, gathering her scarf about her shoulders as she spoke. "It is better to be too weak than to be too strong. But strength will be given you. That is what