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Rh and myself and my fellow-men impels me irresistibly forward."

He said it with such intensity of expression, both of looks and voice, that Barry, easily moved as he always was, half rose from his chair, and brought his hands together with a resounding whack.

"That's the stuff!" he exclaimed. "Farrar, you're game to the backbone! I'm with you, old man; count on me!" Then his eyes fell upon Mrs. Bradley, and he began to apologize. "Pardon me, Mary! I didn't think. You don't want him to stick it out, do you?"

She did not answer him at once. Her eyes were moist, and her lip was trembling. When she did speak she said:

"You don't need to apologize, Barry. You've spoken for me."

She rose and held out her hand to the minister in farewell. "I have done my errand," she said. "I came on it sincerely and earnestly and with a good conscience, and—I thank God it has failed."

It was not an expression of piety, for she was not pious; but no other words, in that moment, could have embodied her thought. She turned toward the door.

"Come, Barry," she said, "we'll go now."

But Barry, suddenly remembering the waiting guest in the drawing-room, replied:

"Why, I—I think I'll stay here in Farrar's study for a while. I—he's got some books here I want to look at."

"No, Barry. I want you with me. I want you to go to the street with me, and walk back with me to my office."

This time he did not demur. He saw that she was in earnest. He knew that she had some good reason for wishing him to go, and he went.

As they passed down the hall they met Jane Chichester at the door of the drawing-room. Her cheeks were scarlet and her eyes were wild.