LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OP 
 CAUPOHNIA 
 
 SAN DIEGO 

 
 t\\ 
 
 f 
 
 . B.CLARKE 
 
 ?68,28TREMONTST& 
 30 COURT SO Rn<5Tnw
 
 THE BREAKING-POINT
 
 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 BY 
 
 FRED LEWIS PATTEE 
 
 ACTHOR OF "MARY GARVIN," "THE HOUSE OF THE BLACK RING," 
 " A HISTORY OF AMERICAN LITERATURE," ETC., ETC. 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 Copyright, 1912 
 
 BY SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY 
 (INCORPORATED) 
 
 Entered at Stationers' Hall
 
 If beauty have a soul." 
 
 Troilus and Cressida.
 
 CHAPTER 
 I 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A WOMAN WHICH WAS IN THE CITY, A 
 
 SINNER i 
 
 THE GOD OF THINGS AS THEY LOOK . 31 
 
 AND ALL EYES BLIND 49 
 
 THE FORM OF GODLINESS .... 78 
 A SETTER FORTH OF STRANGE GODS . 99 
 
 SOULS INSURGENT 127 
 
 THE SPELL OF THE EAST 149 
 
 THE DAUGHTERS OF NECESSITY . . . 170 
 THE SOUL AND THE UNSOUL . . . 192 
 
 THE FIRES OF SPRING 206 
 
 THE NIGHT OF MAY 221 
 
 LOVE is THE SOUL 247 
 
 THE OUTSIDE OF THE CUP .... 260 
 
 FOOTBALLS OF THE GODS 285 
 
 THE ETERNAL Two 301 
 
 As A BRAND FROM THE BURNING . . 322 
 THE CLEANSING OF THE TEMPLE . . 334 
 AND THE SOUL THOU HAST SAVED THY 
 
 SOUL SHALT SAVE 345 
 
 THE FIELD is THE WORLD .... 364 
 THE MARY MAGDALENE MISSION . . 373 
 LOVE AND DEATH 388
 
 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 A WOMAN WHICH WAS IN THE CITY, A SINNER 
 
 JOHN GALTS blue Monday had begun 
 early. The reaction had come before his 
 Sunday evening audience had left the church. 
 As he groped his way through the dim passage 
 to the pastor's room, where he had left his coat 
 and hat, it came upon him overwhelmingly that 
 his evening and his week and indeed his whole 
 pastorate had been a failure. "What's the 
 use ?" His lips were forming the words almost 
 automatically. "Why throw one's work away ? 
 Why preach at all?" 
 
 He closed the door to the little room and sank 
 into a chair spent and miserable. And yet only 
 an hour ago, when he had hung up that coat 
 and hat, how different it had all been! How 
 he had thrilled with the truth and the urge of 
 his message ! How it had burned within him ! 
 Life was a tremendous thing; his work was
 
 2 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 glorious. And now a few moments later he 
 was ready to give up the fight. 
 
 What had happened? 
 
 He was a young man, scarce thirty, sensitive 
 as young men are, introspective almost to mor- 
 bidness, and he began to dissect his soul. 
 
 "Pshaw !" His thin lips curled with a sneer. 
 "It's nothing but vanity. You wanted them 
 to praise you, and they didn't." 
 
 And yet he had preached with a power that 
 was unusual to him, he knew that. The sub- 
 ject had appealed to him ; somehow it had taken 
 possession of him as few of his sermon themes 
 ever had. It had haunted his week, and had 
 ground itself over and over in his brain at 
 night when he was wakeful and his head was 
 clear. He had entitled it in the newspaper 
 announcement, "Christ and Erring Woman- 
 hood," the third in his series of Sunday evening 
 talks on "Christ and Society." Owing to the 
 theme, perhaps, the audience had been larger 
 than usual, and the fact had stimulated him. 
 He had never felt his brain more clear, his zeal 
 more fervent, his message more burning, than 
 when he had arisen to preach. He had spoken 
 the truth; he had presented it with eloquence 
 and power; and it had seemed to him as he 
 stepped down from the pulpit glowing with his
 
 A WOMAN SINNER 3 
 
 message, his face radiant, his heart overflowing 
 with love for all men, that all the Christians 
 in the house should have pressed to him like 
 eager crusaders, and have volunteered with 
 heart and soul in the fight for Christ and pure 
 womanhood and the rescue of the lost. But 
 there had been no sign of anyone's having heard 
 a word that he had said. 
 
 Mrs. Bailey, a business-like little figure, 
 leader of the church women, had been the first 
 to speak. She had come bustling to the altar 
 rail as if she really should be in three different 
 places at that moment. 
 
 "Oh, I am so sorry, Mr. Gait," she had begun 
 impetuously. "I am so sorry that you forgot 
 about the missionary collection. We expected 
 you would break your series to-night, and give 
 us a good rousing sermon. It's our North 
 China Mission ; so very important. How could 
 you forget it ?" She held up a plump finger and 
 smiled at him reprovingly. 
 
 " But that doesn't come until next Sunday," 
 he replied. 
 
 "Ah, but it should be prepared for. We 
 always have had a preparatory sermon. You 
 could have made it such a stirring one. And 
 with all that audience present! It's our very 
 most important collection. We simply must do
 
 4 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 better than we did last year. We always have 
 made an increase." 
 
 "But there is the mid-week meeting," he had 
 argued. "I can announce it then. I will make 
 a note of it." 
 
 "Oh, it's too late now. Only a handful goes, 
 you know. But I mustn't scold." She looked 
 up at him with a smile that was to take the 
 sting from her criticism. "It's really my fault. 
 I should have told you; of course you did not 
 think. But you could have preached such a 
 helpful missionary sermon, Mr. Gait. Really 
 it would have doubled the collection. Now I 
 wonder where Miss Piper has run to." She 
 was off to catch the chairman of the social com- 
 mittee. 
 
 "Ah, good evening, Mr. Bradley." Gait had 
 turned to find an elderly man, erect and self- 
 possessed, with a smooth face and an abundance 
 of iron-gray hair who had evidently been wait- 
 ing for Mrs. Bailey to finish. 
 
 "Just a word, Pastor. I have only a mo- 
 ment." He spoke with conciseness. Business 
 was written in every movement and feature. 
 One felt instantly that he was a man who com- 
 manded and was obeyed, who dealt with affairs 
 in the large, who waited not a moment, and who
 
 A WOMAN SINNER 5 
 
 spoke words the slightest accent of which should 
 be noted. 
 
 "I am afraid, Pastor, your sermon to-night 
 was a little too plain." He lowered his voice 
 as if fearful of being overheard. "It's rather a 
 dangerous subject to handle before such an 
 audience, don't you think ? And in your enthu- 
 siasm, perhaps, you said more than you really 
 intended." 
 
 "Why ah " The pastor stammered and 
 stopped. The unexpectedness of the criticism 
 took his breath away. Then, too, there was a 
 directness about the man's words and manner 
 that was really brutal. His tremendous per- 
 sonality had dominated every pastor of the 
 church for thirty years. 
 
 "I tell you this, Pastor, because you are a 
 young man and inexperienced in city ways. A 
 sermon as blunt as that doesn't do any good. 
 It only shocks refined people. It was a sermon 
 for an audience of men. It might have been 
 a powerful appeal under those conditions." 
 
 "But the message was for all for every- 
 body," the pastor burst out eagerly. "It was a 
 plea for purity, some of it in Christ's very 
 words ; it was a call for charity and self-exami- 
 nation."
 
 6 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "Yes, yes, but one has to be cautious, Pastor, 
 and not forget himself. You don't realize how 
 some of the things sounded down here in the 
 pews. And it was too suggestive to the young 
 people, I'm afraid dangerous. You ought to 
 know these things. And another thing, Pastor, 
 I'm afraid you are harping too much on one 
 string. The people want a change of themes 
 constantly. Evangelistic sermons are neces- 
 sary at times, but you mustn't run to them too 
 much. Mix live topics with your gospel, Pas- 
 tor; that's what the people want. You have 
 got to adapt yourself to the times; the people 
 nowadays go to church to learn the attitude 
 of the pulpit toward the questions of the day. 
 Preach on the awakening of China, the settle- 
 ment of the fisheries question, the San Fran- 
 cisco corruption, the street-car strike, the gifts 
 of Rockefeller, and things like that. The peo- 
 ple want their religion to be a live thing; they 
 want it to shed light on their newspapers. 
 Now don't be offended, but think of it, Pastor, 
 in the spirit in which I offer it. I am working 
 only for the good of the church and the cause, 
 and it is my way to speak right out and not 
 beat about the bush. Good evening, Pastor." 
 
 Before Gait could say a word he was gone 
 like one whose every moment is golden. The
 
 A WOMAN SINNER 7 
 
 pastor stood a dizzy moment and looked at him 
 as he walked briskly down the aisle bowing this 
 way and that, his broad back and his stubby 
 hair fairly bristling with decision and energy. 
 The North Street Church leaned heavily on 
 Alderman Bradley. He was wealthy; he was 
 one of the most prominent business men of the 
 city; for thirty years and more he had been 
 the most active and influential member of the 
 congregation. When he spoke it was as if the 
 church itself was speaking. 
 
 Thus it was that in a moment the mood of 
 John Gait had taken a somersault. It seemed 
 to him as if he had caught a moment's glimpse 
 of the dial on which was recorded the effect 
 of his sermon, and indeed the results of his 
 entire preaching, and had found it registering 
 zero. And this after his eager preparation, 
 his rapt pleading from his very soul, and his 
 sense of personal responsibility that at times 
 had almost overwhelmed him. Why preach? 
 Why preach another sermon ? 
 
 But perhaps the brother was right. He was 
 older ; he knew men ; he had had greater experi- 
 ence in city life. Perhaps indeed the sermon 
 had been too plain; perhaps he had been too 
 zealous and had forgotten himself. Perhaps 
 in his eagerness to enforce his message he had
 
 8 THE BREAKING-POINT. 
 
 said what in cold blood he might blush to own. 
 Automatically he pulled his notes from his 
 Bible and glanced them over. They were mere 
 fragmentary catch-heads : 
 
 The woman taken in adultery. Story. 
 Text : Neither do I condemn thee. 
 
 In God's sight sin is without sex and without gra- 
 dation. 
 
 The sinful woman without help in this modern 
 world; no refuge, no sympathy. Burns' "Ye 
 banks and braes " Goldsmith's "When lovely 
 woman " 
 
 Not the spirit of Christ. 
 
 "Though your sins be as scarlet" not spoken alone 
 to males. 
 
 Nor does it apply only to the next world. 
 
 Modern society cowardly, ruled by cringing ques- 
 tion: What will people think? 
 
 The church in same danger. 
 
 Before you condemn the sinful woman throw into 
 your own soul the limelight of Christ's text: 
 Everyone that looketh on a woman to lust 
 after her hath committed adultery already with 
 her in his heart. 
 
 The outside of the cup. 
 
 Christ offered the only ray of hope that has ever 
 come to impure womanhood, the first in the 
 whole history of society. 
 
 For the tragedy of womanhood there is a door of 
 escape.
 
 A WOMAN SINNER 9 
 
 The church is the person of Christ on earth. He 
 
 works through church members. 
 In the church of Christ lies the sole hope of fallen 
 
 women. 
 
 He arose, drew on his overcoat and went out 
 at the side entrance, clutching the notes in his 
 hand. It was all plain Gospel that he had 
 preached ; he had said nothing that Christ had 
 not said before him ; he had said not one word 
 that should shock or displease any true Chris- 
 tian heart. And the message was a vital and 
 necessary one. The church needed more of 
 charity, more of the Christ love that could reach 
 down to sinful men. As he stood on the curb- 
 ing waiting for his car the very words he had 
 used in his sermon began shaping themselves 
 on his lips : 
 
 "If Christ could pardon, cannot we? Shall 
 a soul that truly repents with her whole soul 
 be refused all hope by us because of a past 
 deed ? When she is ready by our help to enter 
 the new and higher pathway that leads to a 
 pure life shall we refuse help because of a mis- 
 take in past years ? Indeed no. Let the dead 
 past bury its dead. Let us forget it entirely, 
 and live each day joyously as if there had never 
 been a past."
 
 io THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 The clanging of an approaching street car 
 aroused him. He took a nervous step forward, 
 but it was not his car. It was moving rapidly ; 
 in a moment it would sweep around the 
 curve. He stepped back upon the walk again 
 to wait 
 
 What happened next he felt rather than saw. 
 Something rushed swiftly from the darkness 
 near the church. It was a woman. She was 
 plunging into the street. She was trying to 
 board the flying car. No, she was trying to 
 cross the street right in front of it. The idea 
 flashed into his mind and he shouted at her to 
 stop. She could not get across ; it was madness 
 to try. Scarce knowing what he did, he made 
 a dash for the front of the car, and more by 
 luck than anything else he caught her wrap 
 just as she seemed to plunge under the flying 
 wheels. She fell heavily, but his pull at her 
 wrap changed the direction of her fall and 
 saved her. The wheels flew by not a foot from 
 her head. The motorman, who had been clang- 
 ing his bell furiously, leaned far out with fright- 
 ened face to see if she had been mangled. 
 
 For a moment the woman lay perfectly still. 
 Gait bent over her, his heart beating in his 
 throat. 
 
 "Are you hurt ? Are you hurt ?" he gasped.
 
 A WOMAN SINNER 11 
 
 She did not answer. She began to sob, her 
 hands pressed tightly over her face. 
 
 "Come come to the sidewalk," he said rap- 
 idly. "There's another car coming. Come." 
 He lifted her up, and she went with him blindly. 
 The first car had stopped; the conductor came 
 running back. 
 
 "She done that on purpose," he said sharply. 
 "I saw it. I wa'n't to blame for it. She done 
 it on purpose. You call a policeman." 
 
 A crowd was beginning to gather. 
 
 "No, no; she fell." Gait was on the defen- 
 sive before he realized what he was doing. 
 "She tried to cross the street." The woman 
 was clinging to his arm giddily. Her breath 
 still came in convulsive sobs. After a moment 
 she began automatically to adjust her hat. 
 
 "No, sir. She done it on purpose, I tell ye." 
 There was an excited ring in the conductor's 
 voice. The vision of a complaint, or a law suit 
 against the company and his own dismissal was 
 rising before him. "I was standing on the 
 back step and was looking right at her. We 
 began ringing at her a block up. Here, Mister, 
 you saw her; I saw you on the walk." He 
 pointed at a tall youth who was puffing lazily 
 at a cigarette. 
 
 "Yes, I saw her all right," the man drawled.
 
 12 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "Give me your name and address," cried the 
 conductor eagerly. 
 
 The crowd was getting larger. A second 
 car had halted behind the first. A policeman 
 had come and was questioning the conductor 
 Gait for a moment looked sharply at the womar 
 who seemed to be dazed and unable to speak 01 
 think, then by a sudden impulse he took he 
 arm. 
 
 "Come," he whispered intensely. "Com 
 with me quick." 
 
 He started blindly up the sidewalk, and in 
 moment they were free of the crowd. Tl 
 policeman would not find them now : they we 
 simply a man and woman walking along tl 
 street; but for some blocks Gait drew her aloi; 
 rapidly as if they were pursued. Then he t - 
 gan to think. What next? Where was z 
 going? What of this woman? He began > 
 walk more slowly. Who was she? Se 
 seemed too much agitated to talk or eveno 
 think. Her breath still came in sharp, indra n 
 sobs like that of a child who has cried a kg 
 time. 
 
 " That was a narrow escape," he saidat 
 length. "That was an awfully narrow esoe, 
 but you've come out of it all right, and yo 
 got a good deal to be thankful for. Now if ou
 
 A WOMAN SINNER 13 
 
 will tell me where you live I will see that you 
 get home as quickly as possible. You are un- 
 strung, and it's no wonder. You ought not 
 to walk/' 
 
 She did not answer ; she did not seem to hear 
 him. She leaned upon his arm heavily and 
 walked along simply because he led her. 
 
 "Perhaps you were really hurt," he said, a 
 sudden idea coming to him. "Were you?" 
 He looked down at her anxiously. Her hat 
 concealed her face. 
 
 Again she said nothing. Perhaps she did 
 not understand English. 
 
 "Your home? your address? your street?" 
 He spoke the words with eager distinctness. 
 "Where do you live? I will call a carriage. 
 Your name ? Your street and number ? I will 
 take you right home." 
 
 "No, no !" She broke out with the words so 
 suddenly that it startled him. "You mustn't 
 you can't. Let me go now." With a quick 
 movement she tried to pull away from him, but 
 filled with the idea that she was injured and not 
 in her right mind, he clung to her and tried to 
 reason. 
 
 "No, no, you mustn't," he pleaded. "You 
 have had a great shock; you are not well. I 
 mustn't let you go alone."
 
 i 4 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 She ceased to struggle and began to sob 
 again. 
 
 The pastor was perplexed. What was the 
 matter with the woman ? Why should the mere 
 escape from an accident have wrought her up 
 like this? Then in a flash the words of the 
 conductor came to him. She had tried to take 
 her own life. She had been wrung to the pitch 
 of self-destruction before he had seen her. She 
 had all but succeeded. No wonder she was 
 unnerved. He looked at her as for the first 
 time. He could see that she was tall and that 
 she was well, even expensively, dressed. She 
 had, he noted, a dainty fur and muff, and her 
 hat was large and of the latest fashion. He 
 could not see her face. 
 
 As she clung to his arm he felt that she was 
 trembling. 
 
 "Why, you are really ill; you are injured," 
 he burst out in sudden alarm. "You ought not 
 to walk. I will call a carriage this moment, 
 and take you to your friends." He stopped and 
 looked up and down the street as if for help. 
 
 "No." With startling suddenness the 
 woman came to life. She drew away from 
 him with a quick movement and stood erect. 
 "I am quite myself now," she said with dignity. 
 "I thank you for what you have done. Now
 
 A WOMAN SINNER 15 
 
 I will go. I am quite able to find my way. 
 Good night." She started down the walk. 
 
 "No, no," he cried, overtaking her. "I will 
 go with you." 
 
 "It is quite unnecessary, sir. There is not 
 the slightest need of it." She looked at him for 
 the first time. It was a girl's face, fresh and 
 appealing, a quite remarkable face as he saw it 
 under the electric lights. It flashed upon him 
 that she must be an actress. Her costume, her 
 hair as he glimpsed it under her hat, her bril- 
 liant beauty, all proclaimed it. 
 
 "But it is not safe for you to go alone." 
 
 "Why?" There was a flash in her eyes as 
 she faced him. 
 
 "You have just had a great shock. You are 
 really ill" 
 
 "I have told you that I am perfectly myself. 
 I no longer need your help. I am grateful for 
 what you have done, but now you will let me 
 go." She turned from him imperiously. 
 
 "Wait! One moment!" The pastor hesi- 
 tated but a single instant. His duty was clear. 
 This woman only a moment before had 
 attempted suicide. The cause for the deed was 
 still in operation. If he let her go now she 
 would try it again. 
 
 "Before I can let you go," he cried, "I must
 
 16 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 ask you one question: did you not attempt to 
 take your life? Answer me." There was 
 sternness in his voice. 
 
 The instant change in the woman almost 
 frightened him. She wheeled upon him with 
 a snarl. 
 
 ''Yes/' she hissed, "I did. That's just what 
 I did, and I wish to God I'd done it. You 
 hadn't any business to come butting in; you 
 hadn't any right to. My God, I'd have been 
 out of it now if you hadn't." 
 
 Again the pastor hesitated, but it was only 
 for a moment. 
 
 "Come with me," he said softly. "We'll go 
 this way now. Come." He took her arm 
 again, and after a defiant moment she obeyed. 
 "Now tell me about it," he said soothingly. "I 
 want to help you." 
 
 "You can't help me," she answered with 
 fierceness. "No one can help me. It's too 
 late." 
 
 "No, no, no." He spoke with earnestness. 
 "Don't say that. It's never too late, never. 
 Now just let me help you I am sure I can help 
 you. Tell me why you did it tell me every- 
 thing. I want to help you." He spoke plead- 
 ingly, tenderly. "Tell me all about it," he 
 whispered.
 
 A WOMAN SINNER 17 
 
 "Well, I just will," she burst out with harsh 
 voice. "It's because I heard your old sermon 
 to-night, that's why." 
 
 "Heard my sermon?" 
 
 "Yes, I went in there, God knows why, and 
 you told the truth. You said the only thing for 
 folks like me was just to die ; you said a woman 
 never could outlive it ; you said it was as if she 
 had the smallpox or leprosy. And my God, 
 you told the truth." 
 
 "Why! you don't mean that you you're a 
 a " he stopped, unable to say another word. 
 It had never entered his mind that any of that 
 hopeless class which he had described so vividly 
 in his sermon might be in the audience. His 
 words had been aimed at what the world calls 
 decent people. And he had all unwittingly 
 added the last drop of despair to this weak 
 one's cup. The idea set his heart to beating 
 fast. 
 
 "Yes, sir, I am," she blazed, her voice hoarse 
 with passion, "and I'll say the word if you're 
 too squeamish. I'll say it! I'm a " 
 
 "No, no, no!" he interrupted eagerly. 
 "Don't ; please don't." 
 
 "But my God ! I'm not to blame for it. Did 
 you see him sitting there all proper and pious, 
 and bowing his head during the prayer and
 
 18 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 singing the hymns ! My God !" she faced him 
 hysterically. "I could kill him ! I could stran- 
 gle him with my fingers ; I could scrunch him 
 with my foot as you do nasty bugs bedbugs !" 
 She was thrusting her face close to his, her eyes 
 white and glittering, her teeth bare. It was 
 a wholly animal face, distorted and discolored, 
 with no trace of soul the face of a fury. He 
 shrank back involuntarily and raised his hand 
 as if to protect himself. 
 
 "Why! Why! You" He stammered 
 and stopped. 
 
 "You told God's truth," she continued 
 hoarsely. "The man don't suffer. The world 
 laughs and calls him wild, but what does it call 
 me? And his father sitting there like a saint 
 in heaven and I down in the mud and the filth 
 and the dirt ! My God, if I was only a man 
 just an hour just ten minutes, I'd strangle 
 him I'd kill the whole of 'em one by one as you 
 do nasty puppies; I'd scrunch 'em with my 
 teeth ! Oh, my God ! " She stopped in sheer 
 exhaustion, choking and breathless. Her 
 hands were clenched hard; every fibre of her 
 supple body was tense with animal wrath. 
 
 "Wait, sister; calm yourself," he faltered, 
 himself strangely excited. "You are not well. 
 When you are yourself again we can talk of
 
 A WOMAN SINNER 19 
 
 it perhaps and form some plan. They can be 
 punished." 
 
 "Punished ? punished ?" she almost screamed. 
 "You can't do it. You know you can't. 
 There ain't any law for women and you know 
 it, or any justice, or any God only for men. 
 You know it ; you said it to-night. There ain't 
 anything but just to die, and my God! I'm 
 going to." She pulled herself away from him 
 violently. 
 
 "No, no," he cried in awful earnestness. 
 "Wait! You quote only part of my sermon. 
 I said there was hope. I emphasized it." 
 
 "Then you lied." She thrust her face toward 
 him, writhing and livid with wrath. "There 
 ain't a woman in your church but would let 
 me die like a dog in a gutter before they would 
 be seen helping me or speaking to me. You 
 said that." 
 
 He started to answer her, but a feeling of 
 helplessness came over him. This sudden 
 glimpse of a naked soul on the brink of destruc- 
 tion almost unnerved him. What could he say 
 that would move her? Heretofore sin and its 
 accompaniments had been to him abstract 
 things, mere theological terms, easily labeled 
 and disposed of, but this was a different mat- 
 ter; it required not something to be said, but
 
 20 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 something to be done, and instantly. But what 
 was there to do ? He paused an awkward mo- 
 ment, then out of sheer force of habit he began 
 to preach. 
 
 "It's precisely as I said," he started in in 
 sermon tone. "There is still hope for you, but 
 there's only one hope. In Jesus Christ " 
 
 "Will that make folks treat me like they 
 did?" she broke in fiercely, thrusting her chin 
 out at him as if he alone was responsible for 
 her wrongs. "Will that stop 'em from order- 
 ing me out of my room and driving me into 
 the streets, where I haven't a place to lay my 
 head or a cent of money ? You know it won't. 
 Your old Jesus Christ may forgive me and all 
 that, but what good does that do me? I've 
 got to live with folks, and they treat me as if 
 I was a snake. I haven't got a cent or a friend 
 or a place to go to. I spent all last night walk- 
 ing in the park because I hadn't any place to 
 lie down in. Everyone that's decent draws up 
 their dresses when I walk by 'em. And my 
 God, what have I done? Tell me what have 
 I done !" She looked at him a moment almost 
 with pleading, then burst into sobs, hysterically, 
 deliriously. 
 
 It was no time for preaching. Something 
 practical must be done instantly. He looked
 
 A WOMAN SINNER 21 
 
 about him an instant helplessly; then an inspi- 
 ration came as if someone had whispered in 
 his ear. 
 
 The girl needed a mother. 
 
 The thing was clear in a moment. This was 
 just where the church could help. He would 
 take her to one of the church mothers, some 
 sweet Christian soul who would talk as only a 
 mother could talk; who would soothe and 
 calm and love her until the storm subsided 
 and there was peace. That indeed was an 
 inspiration. 
 
 "Come," he said with sudden cheeriness. 
 "No use to argue. I have got the very plan. 
 What you want is a supper and a bed and a 
 mother to talk to you and love you. Now I 
 am going to show you what the church really 
 is. I'm going to take you right down to Mrs. 
 Bailey's, as sweet and motherly a soul as there 
 is in the whole world. You'll feel as if you 
 had got home and mother was there. Come." 
 
 "Indeed I won't." She poured out the words 
 as if he had struck her. "No, sir, you don't 
 get me into no such place as that." 
 
 "Why certainly you will come. She would 
 never forgive me if I let you go and did not 
 bring you." 
 
 "I won't. I'll die first." She spoke through
 
 22 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 her set teeth. There was the look about her 
 of the cornered animal. 
 
 "Come," he said, looking her full in the face. 
 A moment their eyes met, and she yielded. 
 Without a word she suffered him to lead her 
 down the walk. There was a strange compel- 
 ling force about the young man that dominated 
 her. 
 
 "It's just the place," he went on gaily. "Mrs. 
 Bailey is the leader of our church women. She 
 gives half of her time to the organizing of mis- 
 sions and rescue work. She's a real Christian, 
 and you will get a new idea of what the church 
 is for after once you have known her. You 
 will stay with.her to-night and I'll come around 
 in the morning and we'll decide what next. 
 Now don't for a moment forget this: you are 
 among friends; God has led you among 
 friends." 
 
 She did not speak but walked as if uncon- 
 scious of what she was doing. Their route lay 
 through the worst part of the city, and as they 
 passed the groups of men before pool-rooms 
 and saloons, involuntarily she drew closer to 
 him and clutched his arm more tightly. 
 
 He became silent, and at length the silence 
 seemed to oppress her. Once she looked up at 
 him furtively. He was slender and clerical of
 
 A WOMAN SINNER 23 
 
 figure. His face as she glimpsed it was clean- 
 shaven a long, scholarly face with thin lips 
 and sallow cheeks, and eyes that seemed to look 
 quite through and through her. 
 
 He guided her at length into a broader and 
 lighter street in the residence section. 
 
 "Here we are," he announced, at length. 
 "This is Mrs. Bailey's. Hear them? They 
 always sing gospel songs Sunday evening." 
 
 "I'm not going in there, no, sir," she burst 
 out again in a kind of panic. "You are awfully 
 good, but I can't. I won't." She was looking 
 about as if for a chance to escape. 
 
 "Come," he said, firmly. She found herself 
 looking into his eyes again. A moment and she 
 dropped her gaze in confusion and went with 
 him up the steps. A lad of twelve answered 
 his ring. 
 
 "Why, it is you, Mr. Gait." There was sur- 
 prise in the boy's voice. "Come right in." 
 
 "No, Harry, we can't stop now. We will 
 just step into the hall. We want to see your 
 mother." The lad bounded away and in a mo- 
 ment Mrs. Bailey appeared, her face full of 
 welcome. 
 
 "Why, Mr. Gait, you must come right in." 
 She held out her hand in hearty greeting, then 
 turned an interrogating look at the woman.
 
 24 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "This is a young woman in deep trouble," 
 he explained, quickly. "She needs help at once, 
 and I have brought her to you." 
 
 "Why, certainly, that was right." She went 
 over to the girl and took her hand. "What is 
 the matter, dearie ?" she asked, sweetly. 
 
 There was no answer. 
 
 "She has no place for the night," the pastor 
 explained, quickly. "I want you to take her 
 until to-morrow and then we'll make arrange- 
 ments for her. To-night she needs mothering 
 and care." 
 
 "W T hy, certainly " she stopped, with a look 
 of perplexity on her face. She was studying 
 the girl closely. 
 
 "I will come around in the morning and we 
 will decide what to do next," the pastor an- 
 nounced, making a move as if about to go. 
 
 "Why yes " It was not clear to Mrs. 
 Bailey at all. Her scrutiny of the girl revealed 
 much. She was clearly not an outcast. Her 
 clothing was tasteful and even expensive; her 
 hands were white and perfectly manicured ; her 
 face had a freshness and beauty about it that 
 was quite unusual. 
 
 "You are a stranger in the city and out of 
 funds?" she ventured. "You belong to our 
 church?"
 
 A WOMAN SINNER 25 
 
 "No. I live here." 
 
 "Oh ! Don't go, Mr. Gait ; I want to speak 
 to you . And you have no friends here ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Why, what can have happened?" She was 
 studying the girl closely without seeming to do 
 so. 
 
 There was no answer. 
 
 "May I ask your name, please? Mr. Gait 
 did not tell me your name." The girl hesitated 
 a moment and then looked up defiantly. 
 
 "Isobel Carniston," she said, with harshness. 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 The girl straightened up at the word as if 
 she had been struck. Then the woman turned 
 briskly to the pastor. 
 
 "I am very sorry, indeed, Mr. Gait," the 
 church business tone was in her voice now 
 "but really I haven't any suitable place. I 
 haven't a single room ready." 
 
 "But, Mrs. Bailey, you surely " 
 
 "I have a plan, take her down to the Beth- 
 any Mission. That's the very place ; it's ideal. 
 Why didn't we think of it before ?" 
 
 "But Mrs. Bailey, she's in deep trouble. 
 What she needs is mothering and Christian 
 sympathy. And you are just the one to do it. 
 Surely"
 
 26 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "The Mission's the very place. They have a 
 matron there, you know, a sweet, motherly old 
 soul who knows just what to do. It's the one 
 place in the world for her. You know our 
 church contributes regularly to support it; I'm 
 on the board of visitors and I know about it. 
 We went over it only last month. It's just 
 ideal ; they know precisely what to do. That's 
 what they're for, to look after such crea such 
 people." 
 
 "But Mrs. Bailey, she needs the home atmos- 
 phere, the " 
 
 "Oh, she'll get it there; it's wonderful. You 
 don't know what that Mission is ; you must go 
 down with us some time when we inspect it. 
 It'll open your eyes. I'd take her right down 
 as soon as I could. It's getting late and I'm 
 not sure whether they keep open all night or 
 not. Ah, I have a plan. I will telephone right 
 down there and they will send someone here 
 for her in a very few moments. They will 
 come at once when they know who it is at the 
 telephone. Wait just a moment now." 
 
 "No, Mrs. Bailey, if she goes down there I 
 shall take her myself." She looked at him 
 quickly. A strange, new tone was in the pas- 
 tor's voice. 
 
 "Why, I wouldn't do it; it's needless; it
 
 A WOMAN SINNER 27 
 
 isn't it doesn't look " she stopped in con- 
 fusion. 
 
 "I shall go with her." He spoke with preci- 
 sion. "What is the street, please ?" 
 
 "Allen Street. Here, let me give you a word. 
 I'll write to the matron on my visiting card. 
 There. If there's anything else I can do, you 
 must let me know. Good night, Mr. Gait." 
 
 The pastor and the woman were again on the 
 sidewalk, and for a time they walked in silence. 
 
 "And she is your leader?" There was no 
 anger in the voice now. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "She knew me; everybody knows me. She 
 wouldn't have taken me into her house if it 
 would have saved me from dying." There was 
 despair in the tone. The last word was a sob. 
 The tempest of anger and rebellion was gone, 
 and she was the woman again, befouled and 
 cast out and alone, the leper who must cry her 
 whole life long "unclean, unclean," with no 
 human soul to sympathize or to help. The 
 hand of every pure man and woman must be 
 against her; forever she must be alone. A 
 lump came into the pastor's throat. 
 
 "Nevertheless, my sister, you have fallen 
 among friends," he cried. There was a tremor 
 and an earnestness in his voice that thrilled the
 
 28 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 girl. "If I had a home of my own you should 
 come and stay as long as you needed to ; I would 
 treat you precisely as if you were my sister. 
 I have no home, but you are going to be pro- 
 tected and saved. You have fallen among 
 friends, my sister." He turned impulsively 
 and found himself looking into her eyes. His 
 heart was very full. "For you," he said, feel- 
 ingly, "I stand to-night in the place of Christ. 
 He is helping you and lifting you up by means 
 of me. For you to-night I am indeed the 
 Christ." 
 
 They said no more until they turned into 
 Allen Street and stood outside the Mission. 
 Then he stopped and looked again at her 
 earnestly. She glanced up at him with a 
 startled expression. 
 
 "I want you to promise me one thing," he 
 said impressively. "Will you ?" 
 
 "What is it ?" she asked, in low tone. 
 
 "I want you to promise to do yourself no 
 harm this night. Will you?" 
 
 She dropped her head and did not answer. 
 
 "Will you?" he repeated, intensely. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And I want you to take this Testament and 
 read before you go to sleep the passages I shall 
 mark for you. I shall have it sent up to your
 
 A WOMAN SINNER 29 
 
 room. I want you to believe that there are 
 still in this world those who pity you and will 
 help you and stand up for you and make your 
 life still what it might have been. I want you 
 to believe that Jesus Christ has come to you 
 this night and that He is going to save you and 
 make you clean and happy again. Will you?" 
 
 Again she made no answer. 
 
 "Will you promise to read the passages?" he 
 pleaded. 
 
 No answer. 
 
 "Won't you, sister?" he whispered, passion- 
 ately. 
 
 "Oh, sir," she broke out, in sudden vehe- 
 mence. "You don't know the worst. I can't 
 tell it. You wouldn't be kind to me if you 
 knew everything." 
 
 "I don't care what you've done or what the 
 worst may be," he answered, slowly. "There 
 are no degrees of sin with God. The past is 
 nothing; it's the future. You are simply my 
 sister, and I'm going to help you up, and every 
 true Christian will do the same thing. Won't 
 you promise, sister ?" 
 
 "Yes." There was a flush in the girl's 
 cheeks ; her eyes fell beneath his eager gaze. 
 
 "God bless you. Now we'll go in. I'll come 
 here to-morrow morning at ten o'clock and
 
 30 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 we'll talk about what to do next. I'll have 
 them show you your room and I'll have the 
 Testament sent up later." He took her hand 
 and grasped it warmly, and they went together 
 into the Mission. 
 
 Half an hour later John Gait went slowly 
 home, his chin on his breast, like Dante after 
 his look into hell.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE GOD OF THINGS AS THEY LOOK 
 
 HOME in his room, Gait turned on his light 
 and dropped into his study chair. There 
 was no one to disturb him. When he had en- 
 tered upon his pastorate a year before, he had 
 taken quarters in a hotel near the church and 
 in the business section. It gave him freedom : 
 he could come and go as he pleased. More- 
 over, it plunged him into the currents of city 
 life as no suburban residence could ever do. 
 He had been called from a country parish; he 
 was new to the city, and he longed to get at its 
 heart. The quiver and roar of it were all about 
 him as he prepared his sermons; the constant 
 feeling that he was in the teeming presence of 
 the multitude stimulated him. He was a part 
 of it, a part of this mighty, throbbing com- 
 posite of human life, and it was to be his work 
 to understand it, to sympathize with it, and to 
 strive to lift it to higher ideals, a work to in- 
 spire any man. He was tremendously in ear- 
 nest. He had been called by God to save men, 
 
 31
 
 32 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 and he was giving his whole body and soul to 
 the work. 
 
 He picked up the book that he had been read- 
 ing just before the meeting and tried to regain 
 the thread, but in vain. His mind was far 
 from any book. His moment's contact with a 
 naked human soul at the crisis of its sin, a soul 
 on the brink of destruction, had shaken him 
 more than he realized. He had read and he 
 had talked much of sin ; the word in a way was 
 the key-note of his profession. He had pic- 
 tured often the agony and the horror that came 
 to sinful lives when at last they realize that it 
 is too late, but of sin in the concrete he knew 
 really very little. Now, however, it had come 
 with vividness, and he could think of nothing 
 but Isobel Carniston. God to test him had put 
 into his keeping a perishing soul, and he must 
 save her or her blood were on his head. But 
 how ? What must he do next ? The first step 
 was as nothing compared with the second which 
 he must take now. 
 
 He tried to think it out as one solves a prob- 
 lem. She was not a merely bad woman at the 
 end of her career ; everything about her seemed 
 to indicate that. She was not ignorant; her 
 speech betrayed it. Her costume indicated 
 prosperity within a recent period. Why then
 
 THE GOD OF THINGS 33 
 
 should she proclaim herself an abandoned 
 woman without money or home or friends? 
 Perhaps she was a country girl who had come 
 to the city and had gone wrong. How joyous 
 it would be to lead her back to her home and 
 to complete forgiveness! But there was no 
 trace of the country about the girl, and she had 
 said emphatically that she was a fallen woman, 
 a mere creature of the streets. As he thought 
 of what she had said, it came to him that she 
 had shown no regret and no horror of her sin. 
 Her passion had come solely from self-pity and 
 from anger. She had thrown herself under 
 the car in a sudden rage which had seemingly 
 been brought on by the sight of a man in the 
 audience. Doubtless it had been to watch this 
 man that she had attended the service. Even 
 the lowest women of the streets, it would seem, 
 had their jealousies. How was he to touch and 
 influence such a life, one that had in it so little 
 to which he could appeal? His church mem- 
 bers would not help, but would rather hinder 
 him in his efforts. Even Mrs. Bailey had re- 
 fused to work with him. 
 
 A knock at the door started him nervously 
 to his feet. So rapt was he in his problem of 
 Isobel Carniston and her salvation that the 
 knock came to him as if connected with her.
 
 34 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 It flashed upon him that it was a messenger to 
 tell him that the girl had made another attempt 
 upon her life and had succeeded. 
 
 "Come/' he called, after a nervous moment. 
 "Oh, it's only you. I'm awfully glad to see 
 you, Dick." He wrung the man's hand with 
 unusual fervor. 
 
 "Who did you think it was, Johnny ?" 
 
 "Oh, I was simply engrossed with something 
 and you startled me. I might have known who 
 it was." 
 
 It was indeed nothing unusual for Dick 
 Paine to drop in of a Sunday evening. The 
 two had been roommates during their last year 
 at college, an odd pairing, but really an ideal 
 one. The two understood each other. In the 
 whole city Dick was perhaps the pastor's only 
 really intimate friend. He could confide in 
 Dick. 
 
 "Caught you grinding again, I'll bet a dol- 
 lar, grinding at your next sermon, and the old 
 one not fairly cold." 
 
 "Sit down, Dick. I'm awfully glad you've 
 come. I've wanted you. I want your advice." 
 
 "Comes high on points of law, Johnny, but 
 on theology it ain't worth a da whistle. Per- 
 haps I will drop down a minute. Your room 
 needs fumigating." He collapsed into a sleepy-
 
 THE GOD OF THINGS 35 
 
 hollow, crossed his legs luxuriously, drew out 
 a cigar, and began to fumble for a match. 
 
 He was short and broad-shouldered, "built 
 expressly for the line" the football coach had 
 assured him in college. The confidence and 
 sang-froid of the early thirties stood out all 
 over him, as did the marks of perfect health 
 and successful business practice. There was 
 that in his air that stamped him as a man of 
 the world, one who looked on life from the 
 standpoint of the young criminal lawyer of 
 wide experience and perfect digestion. He 
 was pessimistic without being cynical. His 
 manner was quick and decided; he saw the 
 point instantly and acted without hesitation. 
 Life seemed to strike him facetiously ; puns and 
 stories and jokes bubbled from him constantly, 
 but he seldom laughed himself. Even in his 
 most hilarious moments his expression did not 
 change. It made him seem wise and blase be- 
 yond his years. The contrast with the sensi- 
 tive, spiritual face opposite was marked. 
 
 "Say, Johnny," he said, after a moment, 
 holding the match to the cigar and mumbling 
 between the first big puffs. "I know what's the 
 matter. They tell me you let loose a bit down 
 to the church to-night. How is it ?" 
 
 "Why, nothing more than usual. I "
 
 36 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "Oh, I know all about it. Ed Jones says you 
 bucked into their centre like old Hefflefinger 
 and made ten yards every rush. Good work, 
 Johnny. Tear 'em up. That's all they're 
 good for. But " throwing the match end 
 away and looking across the table with uplifted 
 brows "what do you know about women, 
 Johnny?" 
 
 "What I learned from my mother and my 
 Bible," Gait answered solemnly, his eyes absent 
 and dreamy. 
 
 "Just what I thought. Johnny, you ain't 
 any more fit to argue a woman case than a 
 horse, and I mean by that a clothes-horse. A 
 parson ought not to be licensed nowadays to 
 preach in any city till he has sat three terms in 
 a police court, six months in a jail, and three 
 weeks in a morgue. Then he can talk about 
 women." 
 
 The pastor did not answer; he was dreamy 
 and preoccupied. 
 
 "Say, Dick, I had a queer experience to- 
 night," he began at length, arising and pacing 
 the floor slowly, his hands behind his back. 
 "I don't know just what to do. I want to 
 know what you think about it." Something in 
 the tone made the man in the sleepy-hollow take 
 out his cigar and rise to his elbow.
 
 THE GOD OF THINGS 37 
 
 "Hello! What's this?" he cried, looking 
 straight at Gait. "Love scrape? One of those 
 cussed old maids down there has hooked ye, 
 I'll bet my hat." 
 
 "Don't joke, Dick. It's a serious matter; 
 awfully serious." 
 
 "Oh. So it's not an affaire du coeur?" 
 
 "I preached to-night on the erring woman, 
 on the duty of the church, you know, toward 
 the woman who has sinned." 
 
 "So I heard." He sank back and puffed at 
 his cigar with the dreamy, blinking expression 
 peculiar to smokers. 
 
 "My point was that society and even the 
 church crucifies her without pity, and that 
 among all sinners she is the only one who is 
 absolutely deprived of hope." 
 
 "Bull's-eye, Johnny." 
 
 "It doesn't matter what I said, but after the 
 service, when I was standing on the sidewalk 
 in front of the church, a woman rushed out 
 and tried to throw herself under a street car. 
 I pulled her out by the narrowest chance, and 
 then she told me she had done it on account of 
 my sermon." 
 
 "Good! I congratulate you; I didn't know 
 you were preaching so effectively. Think I 
 shall have to go down some night and hear
 
 38 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 you. But what did you pull her out for, 
 Johnny?" 
 
 "Why, Dick" 
 
 "What did you do with her after you had got 
 her out? Preached her a nice little sermon 
 I'll bet a dollar and sent her away with your 
 benediction." 
 
 "No. She began to cry. I never saw a 
 woman cry so " 
 
 "Mere lack of training. If you had only 
 taken my course now. But what did you do 
 with her? By George, you begin to interest 
 
 me." 
 
 "I took her down to the Bethany Mission and 
 got her a supper and a bed. I made her prom- 
 ise not to harm herself, and told her I would 
 go down and see her in the morning. They 
 had turned her out of her boarding-house and 
 she hadn't a cent." 
 
 The pastor did not mention the episode at 
 Mrs. Bailey's. 
 
 "What did you do that for, Johnny? Why 
 was it up to you any longer ?" 
 
 "She said my sermon had driven her to it," 
 the pastor explained, weakly. "It was my 
 duty." 
 
 "And what are you going to do to-morrow 
 morning when you get down there ?" He held
 
 THE GOD OF THINGS 39 
 
 his cigar poised before his face and looked at 
 Gait sharply. 
 
 "I don't know. That's what I want your 
 advice for, Dick." 
 
 "Humph ! Now look here, Johnny, that's all 
 tommy-rot. Your sermon wasn't in it. There 
 never was a sermon preached in this country 
 that would drive anyone to suicide unless it 
 was on account of its length or dryness. 
 Chuck it. It's up to the Mission now. That's 
 my advice." 
 
 "You are wrong, Dick. Indeed you are 
 wrong. God threw her in my way for a pur- 
 pose. The responsibility is upon me. A girl 
 like that young and beautiful and perhaps " 
 
 "By Jove !" Dick straightened up instantly. 
 "Look here, Johnny, what kind of a looking 
 woman was she ?" 
 
 "I couldn't tell very accurately; it was dark, 
 you know. She was about twenty, I should 
 judge, tall, well-dressed, yellowish hair " 
 
 "Mighty good looking?" 
 
 "I should judge she was." 
 
 "She didn't tell you her name?" 
 
 "She said her name was Isobel Carniston." 
 
 "Well I'll be da excuse me, Johnny, but 
 you got the jump on me." 
 
 "Why, what do you mean, Dick ?"
 
 40 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "Nothing." He sank back again into the 
 chair and puffed for a time meditatively. 
 "Say, Johnny," he said at length, "this is a 
 queer world, isn't it, demnition queer ?" 
 
 "Do you mean that you know this woman?" 
 Gait paused in his tread about the room. 
 
 "I have seen her." 
 
 "Who is she, Dick?" 
 
 "No great to tell. First thing I ever heard 
 of her she was in the ribbon department of 
 Brown and Wasson. Nice little girl she was 
 then, smart and capable and tending to busi- 
 ness. Then I believe she got ambitious and 
 went upon the stage as a chorus girl and trav- 
 elled about some. No great of a singer, but 
 she could dance to beat the angels. Then the 
 vampires caught sight of her, and well, that's 
 the whole story." 
 
 "The vampires?" 
 
 "Look here, Johnny, I say it's criminal for a 
 man to hang out his sign as a professional 
 doctor of morals and not know anything about 
 life. They call M.D.'s who don't know their 
 trade quacks. For God's sake read the Police 
 News, Johnny, and get into the saloons and the 
 police court and learn the A B C's about life as 
 it is lived on this planet." 
 
 "But the vampires, Dick?"
 
 THE GOD OF THINGS 41 
 
 "Well, I'll give you a few points just out of 
 pity, Johnny. Firstly, the real vampires of this 
 town don't belong to your submerged tenth 
 class, nor your submerged nine-tenths either. 
 Make a note of that. What you call some of 
 the first families up on the hill are in it, pillars 
 of the church and your church among them. 
 Note that down." 
 
 "What do you mean, Dick ?" 
 
 "And my second point is this: it's quite a 
 thing for a little girl who belongs to the ten- 
 dollar-a-week crowd to be taken up by the 
 swellest young fellows in town and toted 
 around as if she were the whole show. You'll 
 admit that. You can't blame the girls, Johnny. 
 Rich young bloods from the loudest families 
 up town, swell dressed, money no object, treat- 
 ing her like a chum, you really can't blame 
 her, Johnny. Women on the average are about 
 as human as men." 
 
 "They ought to be informed on, and put 
 where they belong," the pastor burst out, ex- 
 citedly. "It's damnable." 
 
 "Oh, I don't know about that, Johnny. You 
 really can't blame the boys. A young fellow's 
 got to have his fling; you ain't young only a 
 mighty little while, Johnny. And about this 
 Queen Isobella; you saw her. Probably you
 
 42 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 didn't notice it, but she's a girl you don't see 
 on every street car. That's straight. I saw 
 her myself once down to Larry's here: private 
 dining-room, you understand, and about six or 
 eight in a party after the show. She was a 
 dazzler, Johnny. There aren't a dozen com- 
 plexions and heads of hair like that on this side 
 of the water; that's the gospel truth, Johnny. 
 And her eyes and figure and hands! well, 
 nothing was too good for her, and she took it 
 all as if she owned the Standard Oil. There 
 were other girls there, girls in this town that 
 would make your eyes bulge like lemons if I 
 told you their names, but she, say, Johnny, 
 I ain't any gusher over girls; you know that, 
 but I couldn't help looking at her, and she 
 laughed and waved her cigarette in that little 
 hand of hers, and tipped her champagne glass 
 till she could have asked 'em to go out and get 
 her a slice of the new moon in a thin sandwich 
 and they would have done it. And you can't 
 blame 'em, Johnny. Life's a pretty joyous 
 thing when you are twenty-one. A boy can't 
 be an old man if he tries; he'll be old quick 
 enough, God knows that. Go it while you are 
 young; it's a mighty short time. The boy 
 comes out all right in the end, Johnny, as a 
 general thing."
 
 THE GOD OF THINGS 43 
 
 "But the girls, Dick!" He leaned over the 
 table in awful earnestness. "A girl simply 
 can't sow wild oats. One breath of scandal " 
 
 "Oh, sure! Nice little sermon, Johnny. It 
 was rather too bad, a girl like that, I'll admit, 
 but she knew what she was doing. She had 
 her day, and it was worth all that she paid. 
 And after all what difference does it make?" 
 
 "Difference ? It means the simple difference 
 between a soul saved and a soul everlastingly 
 damned." 
 
 "Oh, chuck it! For God's sake, don't talk 
 shop. But speaking of souls, let me tell you 
 something, Johnny. Our little Queen Isobella 
 down there has just about as much soul to her 
 as a bird of paradise has, perhaps not quite so 
 much." 
 
 "Why did she come to hear me to-night, 
 then?" 
 
 "Oh, there's a reason all right, don't you 
 forget that. She was watching some man, or 
 perhaps she blundered in, but one thing is sure, 
 she didn't know what you were driving at and 
 she don't know now. She couldn't if she tried. 
 All that she knows is that she is down and out, 
 and that you rubbed the idea in. See ? Wait 
 till you know her. She's a butterfly, that's 
 what she is, beautiful as the devil and just as
 
 44 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 incapable of any of your soul business. She's 
 the most stunning woman physically that I ever 
 saw or ever expect to see, but there's nothing 
 else. Talk about soul ! Pshaw, Johnny !" 
 
 "Why, what do you mean, Dick? Every- 
 body's got a soul " 
 
 "All right, Johnny, have it your own way. 
 I can't argue theology. But the fact remains 
 that she went into this thing deliberately. You 
 see she was poor and had expensive instincts. 
 She wanted life and excitement and flattery 
 where it was worth while. To her life meant 
 swell dances, and theatre boxes, and dinners: 
 full dress, champagne, ten dollars per, and all 
 that sort of thing. She was willing to pay the 
 price, that's all there is to it. Oh, there are 
 dozens of nice girls in this town on the same 
 road. I don't blame 'em. The salary a decent 
 girl can make in this town is only one remove 
 from starvation." 
 
 "But Dick, how does it end?" 
 
 "Oh, simple little tragedy, neat and effective 
 when it is well done. The street-car method is 
 a bit mussy, and it lacks imagination, but it will 
 do. There's no use arguing when you are 
 down and out, and the girl is out of it you 
 understand the minute the fellows say the word. 
 When her rdyal highness is coy and impossible,
 
 THE GOD OF THINGS 45 
 
 she is worth while, but by and by, well, there's 
 a chapter that real nice folks don't talk about, 
 and then pretty tough on the girl when she 
 wakes up, but it's quick over with. Life is 
 short anyway if we live to be a hundred." 
 
 "You don't mean that these men have actu- 
 ally driven any young girl to destruction? 
 You don't mean that, Dick?" There was hor- 
 ror in the man's eyes. 
 
 "Take your own inference, Johnny. There 
 was Ida Morris fished out of the canal in 
 March. Remember it ? Ever been cleared up 
 why she did it ? And there was Josie Hurlbut 
 who hasn't been heard from since May. Then 
 what about little May Andrew? No use dis- 
 cussing these things. The quicker they are 
 forgotten the better. Just clean up the mess as 
 quick as you can and forget it. The best 
 motto to hang over your desk nowadays, 
 Johnny, is, Don't know too much. We lawyers 
 and doctors and coroners have got to live." 
 
 "But something must be done about it!" 
 The pastor was on his feet again excitedly. 
 "Aren't there laws covering this thing? Can't 
 these criminals be brought to justice?" 
 
 "Oh, there are laws enough. We've got 
 laws to burn, Johnny. But the law's one of 
 the luxuries of the rich these days. Got to
 
 46 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 have money in tubs if you expect justice by way 
 of the law." 
 
 "But, in a criminal case, the State prose- 
 cutes." 
 
 "What of that? Take our little Queen of 
 Castile now. She's got a gilt-edged case so 
 far as justice goes. It's eighteen carats fine; 
 but the pinch is that she hasn't got anything 
 but justice. See ? Certain families up on the 
 hill are in this, and they'll pour their money 
 out like pea soup. Suppose she should prose- 
 cute, what would these youngsters swear she 
 was? Plain, isn't it? She has got about as 
 much redress as a rabbit has in the hunting 
 season. She can tear around and make a show, 
 or she can sit still and cry, or she can jump 
 under the fender, it's all the same. The canal 
 is the best solution." 
 
 "Don't, Dick, please don't." 
 
 "Why, I mean it, Johnny. What else is 
 there to do? Your interfering only prolongs 
 the agony. The cold fact is that you have got 
 to live in the world just as it is, and the world 
 just as it is doesn't have much use for little 
 Isobellas when they have reached the point she 
 has. That's clear, isn't it?" 
 
 "But Dick, consider. The girl is penitent; 
 she is really penitent."
 
 THE GOD OF THINGS 47 
 
 "Oh, sure. Not a doubt of it. Repentance 
 according to my dictionary is the state of mind 
 a person finds himself in after he has been 
 found out and caught. A penitentiary is a 
 place where folks are penitent." 
 
 "But, Dick." There was a pleading, almost 
 helpless note in the man's voice. "Be honest, 
 now. This is serious, fearfully serious. The 
 girl's life and destiny are in our hands, perhaps. 
 What shall we do?" 
 
 "Our hands, not by a long shot. I'm not 
 in this play ; I'm on the bleachers. I'm watch- 
 ing you." 
 
 Gait was silent. He was at his desk again, 
 absently folding and unfolding a strip of paper 
 in his thin fingers. There was in his eyes what 
 Dick had once called the "Savonarola look." 
 He was struggling with the insoluble problem 
 of the ages. 
 
 "Now look here, Johnny." Dick tossed his 
 cigar end into the fireplace and pulled himself 
 erect. "This is the place w r here your church 
 comes in. If they are honest and mean what 
 they say they do, they will make it all right with 
 the girl. That's my solution." 
 
 "You are right, Dick." The pastor's tone 
 was far away and dreamy. "But I'm afraid " 
 
 "Afraid, are you? Oh, yes. Well, I'm
 
 48 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 going to keep my eye on what they do. I'm 
 mildly interested." 
 
 "Oh, don't go yet, Dick." The tone was that 
 of one who is about to lose his last support and 
 swim alone. 
 
 "Yes, I must. Now remember, I'm watch- 
 ing this play. But I know how it's going ; I'm 
 on to the signal. The doctor and the under- 
 taker and I'll get the job in the end. So long, 
 Johnny." 
 
 "Good night, Dick." 
 
 The pastor turned again to his study chair 
 and sat for a long time looking absently out 
 through the dim atmosphere of the room. 
 Then he groped for his Bible and turned to the 
 eighth chapter of John.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 AND ALL EYES BLIND 
 
 THE east had begun to redden before Gait 
 fell asleep. The experience of the even- 
 ing had weighed heavily upon him. He had so 
 long brooded on the problems of sin and salva- 
 tion, and had so constantly given himself to 
 self-examination that the sense of his responsi- 
 bility for others at times almost overwhelmed 
 him. The Savonarola type of man, tremen- 
 dously in earnest, all conviction and conscience, 
 with soul on fire with the thought that man is 
 his brother's keeper, is still to be found even 
 now. The Christianity that Moody preached 
 to young men has multiplied the type and 
 made it common. It is easy for a man to 
 dwell on the one thought of his responsibility 
 for others with monk-like singleness of heart 
 until it dominates him. It had become Gait's 
 whole life. 
 
 He judged others by himself. He pic- 
 tured Isobel Carniston as tossing as he might 
 have done in her place in sleepless torment 
 
 49
 
 50 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 hour after hour, moaning in regret, as storm- 
 ing in half delirium at those who had done her 
 wrong, as shuddering in horror at the death 
 that a mere chance had rescued her from, or 
 as struggling again perhaps with the mania of 
 self-destruction. It might be that even now, 
 in spite of her promise to him, she was gasping 
 out her life somewhere in the black waters. 
 The thought started the perspiration on his 
 forehead. 
 
 But Isobel Carniston was doing nothing of 
 the kind. She was losing no sleep. She had 
 entered the little room at the Mission in a kind 
 of daze. Everything had seemed unreal, the 
 narrow little bed with the white iron frame, 
 the prim washstand, the rocker, the shaded 
 electric light, the little bureau with its mirror. 
 Automatically she had gone over and looked 
 into the clear glass. The image she saw 
 frightened her. Her hat was awry ; she began 
 to arrange it with nervous haste, but, recalling 
 herself after an instant, she took it off and 
 threw it upon the bed. 
 
 What was the matter with her eyes ? They 
 were almost yellow and the lids were gorged 
 and red. Her hair was in wisps, her cheeks 
 were strangely mottled, the effect of it all 
 was sinister and repulsive. It brought her to
 
 AND ALL EYES BLIND 51 
 
 herself with a bound of the heart. It was an 
 animal that she saw, a snarling thing that 
 scared her. For a single instant she saw it, 
 then by a swift impulse she was at the wash- 
 stand sopping her face eagerly. For a long 
 time she bathed her eyes and neck and cheeks 
 in the icy coolness, stepping now and then to 
 the glass to note the effect. 
 
 The transformation was swift and it was 
 marvellous. As she gazed at herself in the 
 long mirror, the madness of her day seemed 
 to fall from her like a garment. With a swift 
 movement she unbound her hair and let it fall 
 in a cloud about her bare shoulders. She was 
 herself again. The day's madness had gone 
 with the long-faced young preacher. Again 
 the fullness of life sang through her veins. 
 Again she was Isobel Carniston, radiant in her 
 beauty, perfect, irresistible. 
 
 She ran her fingers, through the great masses 
 of her hair and shook it about her shoulders 
 till she stood as in a great burst of sunshine. 
 She cocked her head coquettishly at the glass 
 and laughed aloud. Again was she Isobel 
 Carniston. Her day was as if it had not been. 
 
 And well might she stand there and laugh 
 aloud. It was a vision of the perfect that she 
 saw, one of those primal women, full sexed,
 
 52 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 glorious, at the dawn of the world; a woman 
 barbarous in her love and her hate, glorying 
 in the merely physical and the fleshly, satisfied, 
 and unashamed. Life rioted within her, sheer 
 animal life, wild and unchecked, life that drove 
 from her every thought of yesterday or to- 
 morrow and cried out with eagerness only for 
 to-day and now. 
 
 And she stood at the glass toying with her 
 hair and forgot everything: the indignant 
 words of the honest Irishwoman who had 
 driven her the morning before into the streets ; 
 the scene in the clubroom that she had entered 
 in a rage; the refusal of young Bradley to see 
 her, and his jeering laugh as it came to her 
 from another room; the madness in her heart 
 as she found herself conducted to the street by 
 the janitor. She forgot her drifting all day 
 with the crowd hither and thither in a delirium 
 of anger, her sight again of young Bradley, and 
 her following of him into the church with mur- 
 der in her soul. She forgot everything. Again 
 she was Isobel Carniston, and the past and the 
 future concerned her not at all. 
 
 There was a knock at the door and the maid 
 brought in Gait's little Testament, with the 
 passages plainly marked that he wished her to 
 read. She glanced at it curiously and tossed
 
 AND ALL EYES BLIND 53 
 
 it upon the bed with a laugh. What was the 
 doleful little book to Isobel Carniston with the 
 hair of fine gold, and the glorious neck and 
 bosom, Isobel Carniston lithe and beautiful as 
 a leopard and as full of eager life ? In her bed 
 she was asleep in a moment, asleep without a 
 dream. 
 
 It was scarcely nine when Gait started for 
 the Mission to make his promised call. He 
 was worried and anxious. What if the girl 
 were not there? She had gone under protest. 
 She could easily escape. Even as he hastened 
 along the street there came the vision of her 
 face as it had looked distorted with hate and 
 madness. She was not responsible. She was 
 mad, all men who attempt to take their own 
 lives are mad, and are not to be trusted a mo- 
 ment. He had done wrong to leave her with- 
 out a guard. The thought had haunted his 
 night, and had driven him out into the early 
 morning. 
 
 It was still and crystal clear. There was a 
 tingle in the air, enough to stir the blood and 
 quicken the step, but not enough for discom- 
 fort. Things were moving briskly. Drivers 
 shouted at each other, wheels creaked on the 
 frost-bound pavements, whips snapped with 
 steel reports, and men and boys rushed along
 
 54 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 pounding their hands and blowing clouds of 
 vapor as if they were on fire inside. All the 
 world was joyous and light-hearted, and 
 alive. 
 
 And soon the thrill and the joy of the new 
 morning began to get into the soul of John 
 Gait. Before he realized it the load of the 
 night before was rolling off like a bad dream. 
 His apprehensions were mere foolishness. 
 Things always looked big in the night time; 
 he had made a mountain of the matter. He 
 was going to her because she needed him. 
 She was waiting for him now ; she was depend- 
 ing on him. He would find her greatly 
 changed with the morning: she would be ra- 
 tional now, and deliberative, and calm. De- 
 spair and unreasoning passion belong to the 
 night, but joy comes with the morning, and if 
 not joy, at least sane thinking, and true per- 
 spective, and the whole train of the proprieties. 
 As he strode along he could almost picture her 
 as she would stand before him, diffident and 
 ashamed, yet pleading and pathetic, shrinking 
 from the harsh world that was demanding the 
 utmost farthing, yet ready to grasp at any 
 faintest gleam of hope. 
 
 Somehow an image of the Magdalen, a 
 painting in the city gallery, came before him
 
 AND ALL EYES BLIND 55 
 
 as he thought of her. It was a favorite of his ; 
 he always paused before it. Unutterable lone- 
 liness; penitence unavailing, merging into de- 
 spair ; eyes that appeal mutely for the help that 
 can never come; a face where the soul by a 
 sudden shock has burst at last through the 
 veil of mere fleshly beauty only to find it too 
 late, only to transfigure it with the twilight 
 radiance of what might have been. Yes, she 
 would be like that, and he would give her hope 
 again, for there was indeed hope still. He 
 would bring before her sharp and vivid the 
 Christ Man with all His infinite pity and power 
 to save. He would make her realize that she 
 again might stand clean, with life all before 
 her and all forgiven. Then he would take her 
 to a dear old soul whom he knew, Mother 
 Brown of the Rescue Mission, who would be 
 a mother indeed to her and would take her into 
 the Home until something better might be 
 found. He could hardly wait, his message 
 was so joyous. 
 
 He was not prepared for what followed. It 
 came like a shock. 
 
 The matron ushered him into a stuffy little 
 parlor and asked for his card, his card! it 
 changed the whole face of the matter in an 
 instant. Then a white-capped maid appeared
 
 56 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 and announced that Miss Carniston would be 
 down presently. It was like a formal morning 
 call. 
 
 But Miss Carniston did not come. He sat 
 for what seemed like half an hour in tense ex- 
 pectancy, but there was no sound. He began 
 to grow nervous. Rescue work done by send- 
 ing up a card and then waiting in the parlor 
 for the candidate to be ushered down at her 
 leisure has embarrassing features. 
 
 He waited still longer. At length by force 
 of habit he picked up a book from the centre 
 table and began to turn the leaves, at first list- 
 lessly, then with sudden attention. It was the 
 report of the work of the Mission during the 
 year, and he had come to Mrs. Bailey's part. 
 He began her letter with real interest ; then he 
 closed the book with a start. 
 
 There was a voice in the hall, brisk and con- 
 fident, dismissing the matron. 
 
 "Thank you for showing me down," it was 
 saying. "Now you may go ; I shan't need you." 
 It was the voice of a mistress of a house send- 
 ing away her servant. The matron seemed to 
 hesitate, but only for an instant. 
 
 "Very well," she said. 
 
 Then there was the brisk rustling of skirts, 
 and before the pastor could arise a beautiful
 
 AND ALL EYES BLIND 57 
 
 woman, tall and commanding, was in the door- 
 way. 
 
 "You'll excuse me, won't you, for keeping 
 you waiting?" she was saying impetuously; 
 then with a little rush across the floor she was 
 right near him and shaking his hand with 
 hearty grip. "But it is so early!" She looked 
 up at him with a look of mock reproach, then 
 laughed aloud. 
 
 "It is early," he admitted. 
 
 "How dark they have it here, and close." 
 She was at the window, and with a flash of her 
 hand she sent the roller curtain spinning to 
 the top. "Now if we could only have some 
 air. Won't you please open it wide?" She 
 turned to him with uplifted eyebrows and 
 laughed again. 
 
 "With pleasure," he said. But the window 
 opened hard. He struggled with it before it 
 yielded. 
 
 "I'll bet the old thing hasn't been up before 
 since the house was built, a hundred years 
 ago." There was something girlish about her 
 laugh; it was infectious and very pleasing. 
 She was at her ease, too, and perfectly mistress 
 of the situation. 
 
 It puzzled Gait. As he turned from the win- 
 dow he looked at her searchingly. Was this
 
 58 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 the woman who had robbed him of his night? 
 Was this the Isobel Carniston who had thrown 
 herself under the car and had faced him so 
 fiercely when he had chided her ? There must 
 be some mistake. It was as if he were calling 
 on one of his wealthy parishioners and was 
 being received by the charming daughter of the 
 house. He looked at her again. She was at 
 the open window sniffing at the brisk morning. 
 A ray of the warm sun was in the masses of 
 her hair, marvellous hair of new bronze, fine 
 as spun gold, and changing its effect with her 
 every movement. Her face and neck, framed 
 in their halo, were like a miniature, perfect in 
 their coloring and their rounded beauty. 
 
 "Oh, it must be just great out on the back 
 roads!" She leaned out as if trying to peer 
 over the housetops that hid the horizon. 
 "There's snow out there and sleighing, 
 sleighing!" She turned to him with sudden 
 intensity. "Think of a sleigh ride on a morn- 
 ing like this !" 
 
 The pastor was embarrassed. He had come 
 for rescue work and he was making a polite 
 call. He cleared his throat, and attempted to 
 change the subject. 
 
 "Did you sleep well?" he asked, with a feel- 
 ing of some bewilderment.
 
 AND ALL EYES BLIND 59 
 
 "Fine! I never even dreamed; it seemed 
 like two minutes. But don't stand, please. 
 Be seated, do/' She bowed at him graciously 
 and again he was in the Morris-chair. A 
 strange feeling of helplessness came over him. 
 How was he to talk of rescue to a woman like 
 that? 
 
 She dropped into a chair by the table and 
 instantly began to rattle on about a sleigh ride 
 she had taken a year ago "on just such a morn- 
 ing precisely." He said nothing; he fell to 
 studying the girl. 
 
 Dick was right. "Johnny," he had said, "she 
 is the most stunning woman I ever saw, but she 
 has got no more soul than a wax doll." 
 
 Dick was right. What could he appeal to? 
 What reasoning could he do with a butterfly 
 like this ? What start could he make ? He sat 
 embarrassed and helpless. 
 
 And had he known more of her, he might 
 have been still more perplexed. 
 
 There was a touch of the South in the girl. 
 The eyes, the hair, the full bust were Saxon, 
 but the fire and the passion belonged with 
 the grandmother to the Mediterranean with 
 the wanton dance girl who had bewitched the 
 grandfather seventy years before. From her 
 had come the volatile spirits, the impetuous
 
 60 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 passion, and the fierce joy in movement and 
 in life. 
 
 That single drop of the South had dom- 
 inated her. She loved costly stuffs: soft silks 
 and cobweb fabrics that cling and lure; opal- 
 escent gems and sensual musks and the breath 
 of strong flowers that load a room with per- 
 fume till they drug the senses and arouse the 
 passions. Her eyes looked straight into yours 
 like an animal's with a subtle magnetism. A 
 woman she was to send a youth home intoxi- 
 cated, mad, vowing that life apart from her 
 was inconceivable, a woman the flash of whose 
 little hands, the cadence of whose voice, the 
 droop of whose eyes, the lure of whose near 
 presence might shake a man mightily and 
 wrench him for a time from all his moorings 
 for a time, not forever. One tired at last of 
 Isobel Carniston, for she was of the flesh alone, 
 and it is only the soul that may look beyond 
 the day and the moment's joy. 
 
 "Do you like the Mission?" The pastor sat 
 suddenly erect and spoke in decisive tone. 
 "Did you find it comfortable?" 
 
 "Oh, sure! it's comfortable enough, but " 
 she waved her hand and shrugged her shoul- 
 ders, in a droll little way. "Well, you wouldn't 
 want to live here all your life." She looked
 
 AND ALL EYES BLIND 61 
 
 over at him girlishly and laughed. "Don't 
 you see, it's so terribly solemn. The pudgy 
 little matron sticks her head in and says, 'The 
 Rev. Gait to see you in the parlor, Ma'am/ ' 
 She imitated the fat little voice and laughed 
 again. "She was so awful solemn. Seems as 
 if everybody you meet is just going to say, 'Let 
 us pray!' The maid brings up hot water, her 
 face two feet long, and she says, 'You're born 
 in sin,' or that's the way it sounded. It's a 
 funeral. I keep looking for the mourners. I 
 expect the coffin in every moment." She looked 
 preternaturally solemn for a moment, then 
 laughed aloud. 
 
 He did not speak. He sat as so often he 
 was wont with his head bowed looking through 
 his eyebrows at the distance. 
 
 "Now, there you are, precisely; just look at 
 that." She waved her hand toward the table 
 where a symbolical figure under a glass bell 
 sat on the dingy marble a maiden half-sub- 
 merged, holding with both hands to a cross 
 that showed a stubby length above the wild 
 waters. "That's what this place is, a kind of 
 morgue. Just look at it. How can anybody 
 bear to look at a thing like that? It's like a 
 dried wreath from a coffin that's been kept for 
 years under a glass. Ugh!"
 
 62 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "But it's symbolic," he burst out, eagerly, 
 as if at last he had found an opening. "It 
 represents the only refuge there is from sin. 
 The waters had almost covered her, and but 
 for the cross " 
 
 "Oh, let's walk in the park. What's the use 
 sitting in this stuffy old hole?" She arose like 
 a child who hears a sudden call from without, 
 and faced him with bright eyes. "We can go, 
 can't we?" 
 
 "Why, yes," he said, slowly. "If you prefer 
 it." It seemed impossible to make any head- 
 way at this morning call, amid all the conven- 
 tions of the drawing-room. The park was a 
 good suggestion. 
 
 He waited for her in the hall while she 
 bounded up to get her hat and wrap. Never 
 had he been so perplexed in his whole pastorate. 
 He could not read the girl. She belonged to a 
 world that was utterly foreign to him. It was 
 as if they spoke different languages. 
 
 The brisk air seemed to exhilarate her. She 
 began to rattle on of this and that, but he said 
 nothing. Somehow within the hour the morn- 
 ing had lost its zest. The levity of the woman 
 in view of what he knew of her was inconceiv- 
 able. It was unnatural and monstrous. He 
 must talk to her with plainness ; he must bring
 
 AND ALL EYES BLIND 63 
 
 her to a realization of her self and her position; 
 but how was he to begin? So absorbed was 
 he in the problem that he did not recognize 
 Miss Barclay of his social committee, who 
 bowed sweetly and, receiving no response, 
 turned to watch the strange couple out of sight. 
 
 "Did you read the passages that I marked?" 
 he broke in upon her, abruptly, in a strained 
 voice. 
 
 "No. I didn't have time. Here's your 
 book." 
 
 "Why, I don't want the book again. You 
 are to keep it; I gave it to you. I want you 
 to read it every day." 
 
 "Oh, I never read. I hate reading. What's 
 the use reading old books ? I haven't time." 
 
 "But you must read this. You must read 
 the passages I marked." There was eagerness 
 in his tone. "There is life in them. I read 
 them myself last night before I went to bed, and 
 it seemed to me that even if I were dead in sin 
 and buried in despair there would be hope left. 
 'Neither is there salvation in any other.' There 
 is no other hope. Without it it is all blackness 
 and despair and death. You'll read it, won't 
 you?" 
 
 She made no answer. He glanced at her 
 furtively and found her glancing furtively at
 
 64 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 him. Their eyes met for an instant, and she 
 broke into a laugh. 
 
 "Say," she said, turning with swiftness and 
 waving her muff at one of the mansions above 
 the park. "Wouldn't it be great to live there ? 
 Isn't that swell, though ? Wouldn't that be liv- 
 ing some?" 
 
 The words following so swiftly his earnest 
 pleading came to him like a blow. They 
 brought the blood to his cheeks. 
 
 "Miss Carniston," he said harshly; "I came 
 to speak of what you are to do. You are in a 
 serious position. You " 
 
 "Oh, that's all right." There was a trace 
 of haughtiness in the tone. "Don't trouble one 
 bit about me. I can manage all right. I 
 always have." 
 
 "But you don't realize, Miss Carniston." 
 There was no way way now but to press the 
 matter with cruel directness. "You will par- 
 don me, but I must speak very plainly. From 
 what I have been told you will find it impossible 
 to secure any reputable work or lodging in this 
 town. You know this perfectly. You know, 
 too, that you are in fearful danger every mo- 
 ment. There are those who are watching your 
 every movement to secure you for a slavery 
 worse than death. You have no friends.
 
 AND ALL EYES BLIND 65 
 
 Those you thought were your friends have 
 poisoned the town against you." 
 
 "The cowards !" she hissed, her face flushing 
 with swift wrath. 
 
 "Unless somebody helps you at once you are 
 beyond hope. You know this. You know the 
 element that will stop at nothing to secure you, 
 and you know what it means. You know how 
 respectable people look upon you. There is but 
 a single way of escape, and I come to tell you 
 of it. Let us sit on this bench and talk it over. 
 I want to tell you something." He led her un- 
 resisting to a little nook a short distance from 
 the path. "With God's help," he said, fer- 
 vently, "I am going to help you and I am going 
 to save you." The intense earnestness in his 
 voice seemed to thrill the girl. 
 
 "You mean that you will fight for me?" she 
 asked, eagerly. 
 
 "I shall do for you all that I can," he replied. 
 "I shall" 
 
 "Then we can do it !" There was fierceness 
 in the voice now. "Folks'll believe you. You 
 are a man, and you can do things. My God, 
 but we can make it hot for 'em. We'll roast 
 'em. I told 'em they hadn't seen the last of 
 me, and they haven't. No, sir!" she laughed 
 in shrill excitement.
 
 66 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "But, Miss Carniston, you don't under- 
 stand " 
 
 "Don't I understand, though ! I'm on to this 
 job and don't you think I ain't. I know more'n 
 you think. Just let me tell you a secret." She 
 leaned over and hissed in his ear. "I've got 
 evidence on the Amy Fiske case that'll make 
 folks open their eyes a mile. We can put the 
 whole bunch of 'em behind bars. My God, but 
 I'll make 'em sweat. Jim Bradley'll have to 
 crawl before me all over the walk, I'll tell you 
 that." She looked at him, her eyes shining 
 with fierce exultation. 
 
 "Jim Bradley?" he faltered. 
 
 "Yes, and all the rest of 'em. You let me 
 tell you what I know : the very night little Amy 
 jumped into the canal I " 
 
 "Wait, Miss Carniston, I can't hear this." 
 
 "Do you mean you back out?" she hissed. 
 "Do you mean you won't help me?" She was 
 on her feet in a blaze of passion. 
 
 "Not in that way," he said, slowly. "I can't 
 help you in any such spirit as that. Revenge 
 is not what you want now. You don't under- 
 stand me at all." 
 
 "Then what's your game?" she shrilled. 
 "You say you'll help me and the minute I tell 
 you how you crawl. You're afraid. You're a
 
 AND ALL EYES BLIND 67 
 
 coward. I tell you how we could smash the 
 whole bunch, and you get cold feet and leave 
 me in the mud, and they laughing, and sneer- 
 ing, and winking at each other. And that's 
 your old religion, is it ? All rot and moonshine. 
 I give that for your dirty religion." She 
 snapped her fingers and turned away from him. 
 
 "Wait! One moment! Be seated, Miss 
 Carniston." She wheeled upon him full of 
 rage, but there was something in his look that 
 seemed to dominate her in spite of herself. 
 She wavered for a moment and sat down. 
 
 "Miss Carniston, you need the plain truth." 
 He spoke as if weighing every word with cold 
 precision. He had come to the crisis. "It is 
 my duty to tell you things just as they are. It 
 is not for you to talk of revenge ; what you need 
 is to see yourself in the true light as I see you 
 and as pure people see you. You are an un- 
 clean woman and there is absolutely no one 
 but yourself to blame. You are a danger to 
 everybody wherever you go. Good women 
 ought to blush if they brushed against you, little 
 children should be kept out of your way, and 
 you should be quarantined like smallpox. You 
 have done what a true woman would rather 
 die" 
 
 "Oh, don't." She raised her hand as if to
 
 68 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 ward off a blpw. Instead of flashing with 
 wrath at his harsh words, she had collapsed 
 into a pitiful heap, grovelling and cowering. 
 There was that in his eyes and his tone that 
 wrought in her a feeling that was new to her. 
 She covered her face so he could not see her, 
 but still she felt his eyes burning through to 
 her very heart. 
 
 "It is harsh, but it is the only thing that can 
 open your eyes. Before there is help for you, 
 you must see yourself as God and pure people 
 see you as I see you." 
 
 "Oh, don't please !" She caught a glimpse 
 of his rigid face and drew in her breath sharply. 
 "I want to go I want to go to the room," she 
 gasped. 
 
 "No. You must see the awfulness of this 
 thing. It is not a matter of revenge; it is a 
 matter of bowing yourself in the dust before 
 Almighty God whom you have wronged." 
 
 She said nothing. She was looking at him 
 now as if she were frightened, as if she were 
 powerless to take her gaze from his burning 
 eyes that seemed to hold her with almost hyp- 
 notic power. 
 
 "When you have done this, I can help you. 
 I can lift you up, God helping me. For you 
 now I am the Christ come to give you my hand
 
 AND ALL EYES BLIND 69 
 
 to lift you from the mud and dirt. You can 
 be pure again, if you only will. Come. I reach 
 you my hand. Will you ?" He bent over her 
 in the earnestness of his yearning to save her, 
 pouring out his soul like a lover. She took his 
 hand like one who is drowning, and then at 
 the sight of the great tenderness in his eyes, 
 she began to cry. 
 
 "Let me go back," she sobbed. 
 
 "Don't cry," he said, awkwardly. "There 
 it's all right if you only realize if you are 
 only truly sorry. It's easy then." 
 
 His back was to the walk. He did not see 
 Miss Cooley and Mrs. Bishop of his temperance 
 committee as they passed in the walk and then 
 turned as if not believing their eyes. His 
 whole soul was on the rescue of this poor bit 
 of human wreckage that God had thrown into 
 his way. 
 
 "We will not leave you alone in your strug- 
 gle," he went on. "We will help you and sym- 
 pathize with you at every step. We know just 
 how hard it is going to be." The tone in his 
 voice seemed to thrill her strangely. She 
 looked up into his face again, her eyes wet and 
 sparkling, but she did not speak. 
 
 "We will go now," he said, softly. She took 
 his arm without a word and started with him
 
 70 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 she knew not whither. "I shall take you to the 
 little Rescue Mission on Water Street Mother 
 Brown's Home/' he explained. "You'll love 
 her, I know you will. She will care for you 
 like a real mother till we can make further 
 plans." 
 
 "No, no, I can't go there." She stopped 
 short and looked up at him pleadingly. "Please 
 don't make me go. I can't. I simply won't 
 meet any more of those good women." 
 
 "Ah, but this is different. Mother Brown 
 knows you are coming. She is watching for 
 you this minute. Come." Again she looked 
 up at him and obeyed. 
 
 "It is all coming right," he went on, sooth- 
 ingly. "You have got the whole future to live 
 in, and kind hearts and hands are all about you, 
 ready to help you. Remember you are with 
 friends now who believe in you. Ah, that's 
 Mother Brown now. See, she is at the door 
 already." He swung open the gate, and then 
 with a "God bless you" he left the two women 
 together. 
 
 Gait did not go through the park; he took 
 the nearest route to his rooms. A great joy 
 was in him : he had won ; he had rescued from 
 destruction a precious human soul. The
 
 AND ALL EYES BLIND 71 
 
 thought rendered him for the time oblivious 
 of all things else. It might perhaps have 
 frightened him had he known what he had 
 really done, but now he did not know and he 
 rejoiced. 
 
 A sudden voice at his elbow made him turn 
 sharply. 
 
 "Hello-o-o, Johnny! Where're you going?" 
 
 "Oh, it's you, Dick?" 
 
 "Sure. Had your lunch yet? Come right 
 along." 
 
 "No, Dick." 
 
 "Not a bit of it. No excuses now. You 
 are going to eat your lunch to-day right here 
 with me at Larry's. Step lively now." Dick 
 seized the pastor's arm and a moment later 
 he had found his favorite seat and was scan- 
 ning the menu with practised eye. 
 
 "Now, this is fine," he cried, rubbing his 
 hands gleefully. "Eating alone is like loading 
 a gun; you cram down things just to keep 
 you alive and then you bolt. Say, how would 
 a lobster newberg go? 'Bout right, isn't it? 
 Now for the harrowing tale, Johnny." 
 
 "The tale?" 
 
 "Yes, out with it. What did you do with 
 her?"
 
 72 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "I took her to Mother Brown's Mission on 
 Water Street, and she will stay there for the 
 present and work for her board." 
 
 "And the girl went? And she is going to 
 stay?" He turned and looked at Gait sharply. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And the old woman's a saint?" 
 
 "As near as you'll find one in this world, 
 though she is not a church woman. She is a 
 sort of self-constituted worker among fallen 
 women, and she has been there for forty years. 
 She knows just what the girl needs. She will 
 give her sympathy not pity, but sympathy 
 and that is about all that can be given now. 
 Only a woman can give that." 
 
 "Well, I'll be bow-wowed!" He leaned 
 back in his chair and looked at Gait. "And 
 the girl's going to stay?" 
 
 "Why, certainly." 
 
 "See here, Johnny, do you know that's 
 genius? It's a crime to tie a man like you 
 down to that cussed bunch of old maids you 
 call a church. You've got a future, Johnny. 
 I take back all I said. You know more about 
 women than I do." 
 
 "Isn't that putting it strong, Dick?" The 
 pastor's serious face relaxed into a smile. 
 
 "Well, perhaps it is, in a way. I have seen
 
 AND ALL EYES BLIND 73 
 
 considerable of one side of female nature, but 
 experience doesn't count when it comes to 
 women. That requires genius. Take our 
 Queen Isobella, now highstrung as the devil, 
 red-headed, nursing a grievance against a man 
 that would justify manslaughter, with no more 
 soul than a blue-bottle fly, so sure she is down 
 and out that she dives under the trolley here 
 she tames down like a little lamb just be- 
 cause you preach her a pretty sermon. Fol- 
 lowed you right down the street, didn't she? 
 ate out of your hand ? Said she'd be good and 
 go to Sunday-school, and learn the golden text ? 
 It's eloquent, Johnny. You take my advice 
 and keep your eyes wide open; you are a dan- 
 gerous man." 
 
 "Dangerous !" 
 
 "Johnny, did you know that there are men 
 so constituted that women swarm around them 
 like millers around an electric light? Did you 
 ever hear of that?" 
 
 "You are jesting, Dick. I haven't any time 
 to think of women save as souls to be won." 
 
 "Now, that's just it. You don't know it. 
 You are running right into a wheel-pit blind 
 as a bat. Now, let me tell you something; it's 
 my duty to: you have snapped on one fiddle- 
 string so long that you can't hear anything
 
 74 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 else. But you are going to wake up with a 
 jump one of these days and what you'll see 
 will scare you to death." 
 
 "Nonsense!" 
 
 "Well, you wait, that's all. I know you 
 through and through and I have seen some 
 little of human nature. Let me tell you this: 
 there's a woman somewhere, Johnny, who can 
 do with you just what she wants to. She's got 
 your destiny for good or bad right in her hand. 
 I don't care who the man is, there is a woman 
 living somewhere who can lead him right by 
 the nose. He may never see her most men 
 never do but when he does, then he's no 
 longer his own property. If she is good, he 
 can thank God, but if she is bad well, a man 
 never knows what's in him until he has met 
 this woman. This isn't in the Bible, Johnny, 
 but it's gospel just the same." 
 
 "That's all very well for fun, Dick, but you 
 don't understand this matter." There was a 
 note of impatience in the pastor's voice. "You 
 leave one tremendous factor out of your reckon- 
 ing every time and it brings you ludicrous and 
 startling solutions. You leave out the saving 
 power of Jesus Christ. You " 
 
 "Whoa there, Johnny. Chuck it." He 
 raised his hand in warning. "Nice little ser-
 
 AND ALL EYES BLIND 75 
 
 mon, I haven't a doubt, but don't preach it. 
 You remember Prex's baccalaureate? Says I, 
 'That's a good sermon, Prexie, a mighty good 
 sermon, good enough so I shan't have to hear 
 another for ten years.' ' 
 
 "But, Dick, it's the truth." 
 
 "It's preaching, and all preaching is wind. 
 When I see you church people pitching right 
 in and working that thing, then it'll be up to 
 me to explain." 
 
 "But, Dick" 
 
 "Stop it, Johnny. Don't throw your good 
 sermon stuff away on me. Preaching was 
 made for women. Say, did I tell you that 
 Freddie's coming this afternoon? She is go- 
 ing to spend the spring here. You know Fred- 
 die?" 
 
 "Yes." The pastor did remember "Fred- 
 die." There flashed before him the memory 
 of a week confused and headlong commence- 
 ment: girls in white, sisters, sweethearts, 
 mothers; Dick's sister, Frieda, who had fallen 
 to him to entertain during the week. "Yes, 
 and I haven't seen her since. She is studying 
 art, I believe." 
 
 "No. Freddie's a professional religionist." 
 
 "Religionist?" 
 
 "Yes. She's bad off. She's got the disease
 
 ;6 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 they call Bostonitis, and it's going hard. It 
 began with Browning in the mild form, fol- 
 lowed by the virulent, then it passed into Chris- 
 tian Science, and now it is Theosophy. Next 
 fall I believe she begins on Zoroasterism." 
 
 "And she is coming here to teach?" 
 
 "Precisely. But she is not the principal 
 figure. She is in the grip of a woman, a Miss 
 Thost Helda Thost. You've heard of her; 
 high priestess of the esoteric in this country." 
 
 "The name sounds esoteric. Hindoo, is it?" 
 
 "Pseudonym. I haven't a doubt she was 
 born Maggie McMurphy. But she looks Hin- 
 doo all right, and she talks in a way that makes 
 the women forget their pug dogs. They follow 
 her in shoals. She hooked Freddie the first 
 throw, and it's a cussed shame." 
 
 " They will take rooms at the St. Cloud, I 
 suppose." 
 
 "No." Dick toyed with his fork absently. 
 "They don't travel in my class. They have 
 hired a big apartment-house suite on Summer 
 Street, and they will fit it up like a Hindoo 
 pagoda. That sort of business has got to be 
 done in style, you know. They aren't fishing 
 for minnows." 
 
 "It ought to be stopped." There was an 
 angry scowl on the pastor's face^ "A thing
 
 AND ALL EYES BLIND 77 
 
 like that will infect a whole town like a con- 
 tagious disease. They ought to be quaran- 
 tined. There is something about these fads 
 that positively fascinates women. What is it, 
 Dick, that predisposes them so to this kind of 
 thing?" 
 
 Dick had his theory, and he expounded it at 
 length; then the pastor added his opinion of 
 Oriental religions and of newnesses generally. 
 Somehow the news of Miss Thost's coming 
 nettled him. As an hour later he walked again 
 down the street his joy over Isobel Carniston 
 was forgotten. He was planning a sermon 
 for the following Sunday on the worship of 
 strange gods.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE FORM OF GODLINESS 
 
 GALT was a product of the early, vital days 
 of the Northfield movement. His whole 
 life had predisposed him to religious enthusi- 
 asm his temperament, his mother, his home, 
 his church connection and when in his fresh- 
 man summer he had come under the spell of 
 Mr. Moody, he had been one of the first to 
 pledge his life unreservedly to the salvation of 
 men. He had been stirred most profoundly. 
 For him henceforth life held but a single aim: 
 it was to be a barehanded struggle with sin, 
 a total renunciation of self, a surrender of his 
 whole powers to Christ and His work. He 
 had gone forth from the college and then from 
 the seminary one of the most earnest of that 
 little band of inspired young men which the 
 early Northfield, with its Moody and its Drum- 
 mond, had so marvellously produced. 
 
 He had been in the ministry for six years. 
 He had gone at first to a small charge, in reality 
 a struggling mission station, and he had made 
 
 78
 
 THE FORM OF GODLINESS 79 
 
 of it a self-supporting church with a zealous 
 membership. He had thrown himself body 
 and soul into the work; he had given his every 
 moment; he had worked as they work who 
 snatch helpless victims from the flames. 
 
 He had been very simple in his pastoral 
 methods, even primitive. He had tried to 
 work as Christ had worked, to touch the soul 
 by first ministering to the body. He had en- 
 tered intimately into the daily lives of his peo- 
 ple. Preaching he had made incidental ; it was 
 but a means to an end. It was not its function, 
 he believed, to amuse or to instruct; it was to 
 arouse to action. It was a warning of danger, 
 a pointing out of refuge, a call to work. It 
 was ever intensely personal. It arose from 
 present conditions among those to whom it 
 came, and it went always from him winged 
 with tremendous conviction. When in the full 
 current of his message he seemed always like 
 one inspired. As he got deeper and deeper 
 into his theme, his eyes would kindle, his wan, 
 spiritual face would glow, and his voice would 
 quiver with rapt intensity. He preached as to 
 dying men now given their last chance for sal- 
 vation. 
 
 It had been largely this sermonic power that 
 had brought him his call from the rich and
 
 8o THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 exclusive North Street congregation in the 
 heart of the great manufacturing city. His 
 personality too had been an element. He was 
 a man of striking appearance. He was of 
 scholarly figure, tall and thin, and he was quick 
 and nervous of temperament. His hair in- 
 tensely black, was very abundant. His thin, 
 smooth face, sallow yet dark from the shaven 
 beard, his square jaw accurately hung, his eyes 
 deep-set and piercing, mystic and speculative, or 
 kindling with enthusiasm and flashing with fire 
 as he preached all combined to form a person- 
 ality quite unusual. There was, too, a vitality 
 and a magnetic power about the man that made 
 him a natural leader, especially of women. He 
 was one whom no church would be ashamed to 
 point out as their pastor. 
 
 And the beginning of his work had showed 
 them the wisdom of their choice. He had 
 started out with all the zeal and thoroughness 
 that had characterized his earlier pastorate. 
 He was willing, and more than willing, to do 
 his part. He infused new life into every de- 
 partment. The membership, especially the 
 feminine three-quarters, had rallied about him 
 with enthusiasm; the congregation on Sunday 
 mornings had almost doubled; the committees 
 and the organizations had sprung into new life.
 
 THE FORM OF GODLINESS Si 
 
 Even those who had been doubtful at first of the 
 experiment of taking an unknown young man 
 from a country parish for the delicate work of 
 a rich and exclusive city church, who had in- 
 deed consented to the young man only after 
 Mr. Bradley's "Leave him to me. I will keep 
 him in line" even these were delighted. At 
 last they had found a man. 
 
 But after the first few months Gait had be- 
 gun to awaken to a feeling of uneasiness. He 
 was becoming more and more conscious of a 
 state of affairs that was utterly foreign to his 
 earlier pastorate. A city church is an intricate 
 mechanism ; it has wheels within wheels, socie- 
 ties within societies, committees and sub-com- 
 mittees, funds of every variety, clubs without 
 number for boys, for girls, for men, for 
 babies even mothers' clubs, cooking clubs, 
 handiwork clubs, athletic clubs organization 
 without end. To co-ordinate all this activity, 
 to direct and vitalize it, requires force and 
 executive power. The pastor soon realized 
 that it was taking almost his entire energies 
 to keep moving the wheels within wheels. 
 
 His early vision of the pastor's life had come 
 almost wholly from the four Gospels. The 
 church, as he conceived it, was simply an em- 
 bodiment of these Gospels. It was the actual
 
 82 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 presence of Christ on earth, and the pastor was 
 His representative. To come in daily contact 
 with sin and suffering, to lend a hand to the 
 perishing, to lift up, to bring light into dark 
 places, joy to sorrow, ease to anguish this 
 was the pastor's work. He was to be the toil- 
 ing missionary and his people were to stand 
 about him and hold up his hands. 
 
 This had been his ideal. This had been the 
 reason why he had consented to go to the city 
 church. It would give him the field that he 
 had always longed for the great teeming pop- 
 ulation with its misery and degradation and 
 sin. He could touch more lives ; he could come 
 into contact there with thousands and tens of 
 thousands in the ranks of sin. But how dif- 
 ferent he was finding his actual work. His 
 pastoral life had resolved itself into sermons 
 to those who seemed to hear, yet did nothing; 
 earnest counsel to those who were bound hand 
 and foot by convention; into pastoral visits 
 that were mere formal social calls; into half- 
 concealed rivalry with other churches even in 
 the same denomination ; into the management of 
 committees and clubs and funds and collections, 
 some of them not at all spiritual ; into hard work 
 done ever with an eye to the annual report: 
 so many added to the church, an increase of
 
 THE FORM OF GODLINESS 83 
 
 so many per cent, over last year; of so many 
 dollars to the missionary fund, an increase of 
 such and such an amount over last year; of so 
 many pastoral calls, so many baptisms and so 
 many conversions; of so many dollars raised 
 by this and that committee for this and that 
 purpose, a clear gain over last year "a good 
 report, brother, a good report!" But was it 
 worth the while to spend himself for these, and 
 leave all untouched the great suffering world 
 about him? Was not the machine becoming 
 so complicated that it was taking the whole 
 power merely to keep it in motion? His 
 preaching was beginning to turn more and 
 more to the gospel of the heart of things; he 
 began to dwell with increasing emphasis on 
 the need of getting back to the spirit of Christ's 
 message; but it seemed that he was preaching 
 into the empty air. Convention ruled his audi- 
 ence as with iron; the church was in a rut; it 
 seemed powerless to help itself ; it even seemed 
 unconscious that it was in a rut at all. 
 
 The true condition of affairs had first dawned 
 upon Gait in the weekly prayer-meeting, that 
 infallible thermometer of the spiritual life of 
 the church. He had early found it a thing of 
 marvellous variations. It was as sensitive to 
 atmospheric conditions as a barometer: the
 
 84 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 attendance rose and fell with the mercury, and 
 with the months almost as if ruled by the moon. 
 It registered every wave of local novelty and 
 public excitement in the city like a seismograph. 
 A holiday or a new actress might reduce the 
 attendance nine-tenths. No two meetings were 
 ever alike: a small invariable constant there 
 was, mostly of women, and about this nucleus 
 gathered more or less. But however the com- 
 position might vary, the character of the service 
 was stationary. The pastor before Gait, a 
 hard-working, long-suffering man, had once 
 made the remark that the North Street prayer- 
 meeting had first run to singing and then to 
 seed. Which was not bad philosophy. 
 
 It was not a prayer-meeting at all. An 
 address by the pastor was expected an in- 
 formal talk on the trees or the rivers or the 
 animals of the Bible, or on the history of some 
 hymn, or on some current event or some golden 
 text of the Sunday-school lesson. Then there 
 were two or three prayers, always from the 
 same little circle, then singing introduced per- 
 haps with the story of the hymn, but always 
 and everlastingly singing. 
 
 Mrs. Perkins had just called for, "My All 
 is on the Altar," and was leading with unction. 
 Somehow the revolt that had been smoldering
 
 THE FORM OF GODLINESS 85 
 
 all the week in the pastor's mind flamed up hot 
 and fierce as he listened. How many of them 
 could honestly say those words ? It was in his 
 heart to rise at the close of the song and remind 
 them that they had previously sung "I'll Go 
 Where You Want Me to Go," and "All, Yes, 
 All I Give to Jesus," and then to remind them 
 that it was positively wicked to say such words 
 unless from the heart, but he checked himself. 
 
 The meeting dragged on in the old ruts. The 
 usual prayers, said, it seemed, with reluctance 
 from a sense of duty, the same old testimonies, 
 and then singing, always singing prayers, 
 pleadings, exultations, promises, that had once 
 burst tremulous, tearful, ecstatic from saintly 
 and consecrated hearts, tossed off flippantly 
 from the lips of those who cared but for the lilt 
 of the melody. And now they were singing 
 "Abide With Me," of which Gait had once said, 
 "That is not a hymn; that is a naked human 
 soul." 
 
 Mr. Bradley was present and he had opened 
 the meeting with prayer, an exercise in which 
 he was gifted. He came but seldom; he was 
 a busy man and had duties that were impera- 
 tive, but whenever he did come, the meeting 
 centred about him. He prided himself on 
 being a "worker" and he prayed and exhorted
 
 86 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 and called for hymns with the breezy air of 
 one who was heart and soul in the work, one 
 who put into a meeting all the power and 
 energy that he put into his daily work. 
 
 With the benediction the congregation at 
 once broke into little groups. All shook hands 
 and talked and laughed as at a reception. It 
 was always a social event. Young men were 
 introduced to young ladies, committee chairmen 
 met their members and made plans, mothers 
 inquired of children and compared notes on the 
 progress of epidemics. 
 
 At the door Gait found Mr. Bradley appar- 
 ently waiting for him. 
 
 "I am going right down your way," he 
 announced, briskly. "We will walk down 
 together." 
 
 "With pleasure." 
 
 This was unusual. The pastor glanced curi- 
 ously at the square figure as they swung off 
 down the sidewalk, and wondered what might 
 be coming. He had not long to wait. 
 
 "I want to talk with you about a certain mat- 
 ter, Pastor." He came very near to the young 
 man and lowered his voice confidentially. "I 
 am, as you know, a man of business, and it is 
 not my way to beat about the bush."
 
 THE FORM OF GODLINESS 87 
 
 "Ah." 
 
 "I told you when you came that I should tell 
 you frankly of any mistakes you might make, 
 and tell you at once. Now it has come to a 
 place where it is my duty to speak." He paused 
 a moment and cleared his throat. His voice 
 was deep of compass, in business matters al- 
 ways gruff and hard. There was an air of de- 
 cision and authority about him that somehow 
 carried conviction, whether one would or not. 
 "You have been trying, it seems, to help a cer- 
 tain woman who is well known in this town, and 
 you have done it in a way that, to speak with 
 perfect frankness, has caused considerable talk, 
 I might even say scandal." 
 
 "Scandal!" The pastor, taken utterly by 
 surprise, could only gasp. "Why why, what 
 do you mean ?" 
 
 "Now, don't misunderstand me. I have told 
 you that it is simply a case of a matter wrongly 
 handled. You must realize, if you stop to 
 think, that to be seen walking the streets late 
 at night with such a woman and to be seen 
 sitting with her in secluded spots in the park 
 can only lead our young people to make 
 remarks." 
 
 "But I had just rescued the woman from
 
 88 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 death. She was in no condition to go home 
 alone. She was dazed and half-demented 
 and" 
 
 "There were policemen; an ambulance could 
 have been sent for; a mission worker could 
 have been called. Now I do this in all kind- 
 ness. It is just here that you need advice. It 
 is my duty to give it. You are new to city 
 ways. You don't realize what it means and 
 what care must be taken at every step. I don't 
 question your motive for an instant; it isn't 
 that at all; I know what you were doing; it is 
 your method. You must remember that you 
 are in a city, the pastor of a great, influential 
 city church, and that the yellow journals have 
 their scandal nets spread in every direction like 
 spider-webs. What if one of their miserable 
 sensation-mongers had seen you the other 
 night ? The plain truth is that no man, I don't 
 care who he is or what his object, can dare to 
 be seen with that woman, day or night. The 
 world is capable of drawing but a single con- 
 clusion, and it will draw it every time, I don't 
 care if you are the angel Gabriel. And remem- 
 ber that you have got not yourself to think of, 
 but the church. Our church absolutely can not 
 be connected with any such story, come from 
 where it may."
 
 THE FORM OF GODLINESS 89 
 
 "But, Mr. Bradley, consider." There was a 
 quiver that was very much like anger in the 
 pastor's voice. "Would you let her go to de- 
 struction and make no effort to save her ?" 
 
 "Certainly not, though I admit that the sav- 
 ing of that woman would be about on the same 
 scale as the cleansing of a dunghill. To speak 
 very plainly, Mr. Gait, she is a prostitute, the 
 vilest of the vile. She is absolutely abandoned 
 and past all hope. There is nothing whatever 
 left to appeal to. She may look sweet and in- 
 nocent, but that is her trade; that is the pecul- 
 iarly dangerous thing about the matter ; that is 
 what makes the young people talk. She is 
 hopeless, Mr. Gait; she is without one vestige 
 of womanliness, or shame, or truth. I have 
 lived in this city all my life and I know the 
 heart of it." 
 
 "But, Mr. Bradley," he burst out hotly, "sup- 
 pose she is all you say she is, should I have let 
 her perish? Should I have thrown her into 
 the streets again with the suicide mania upon 
 her? She would have taken her life." 
 
 "No great loss to the town." 
 
 "Why, Mr. Bradley!" 
 
 "Remember, Pastor, what a frightful source 
 of corruption such a woman is in a city. Bet- 
 ter one than a dozen. And as to saving her,
 
 90 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 that's romance. A woman who has reached 
 that stage has surrendered absolutely every- 
 thing, and is past working for. There is abso- 
 lutely nothing left to appeal to." 
 
 "I deny that, Mr. Bradley, with all the em- 
 phasis of my soul." He turned to the man, 
 with a flash in his eyes. "No sinner is without 
 hope so long as he has life. There is hope, 
 'though your sins be red like crimson.' She 
 has precisely as much hope as you or I. I don't 
 care what she has done; she needed help and 
 in Christ's name I gave it. It was my duty, 
 if I call myself a follower of Him. He stooped 
 to help the loWest. If the church does not do 
 these things, who will?" 
 
 "Mr. Gait, you misunderstand me completely ; 
 I have told you that that is not the question." 
 It angered the min to be opposed. His face, 
 as the pastor saw^it in the half light, looked 
 square and hard as if hammered out of copper. 
 The iron-gray hair under his silk hat seemed 
 to bristle in short, angry stubs. "It is not the 
 doing at all, it is the method of the doing. It 
 is not the place of the pastor of a large and 
 influential city church to work in actual contact 
 with prostitutes. You have got to deal with 
 them as you do with smallpox, by means of 
 organizations. My point is here : you say noth-
 
 THE FORM OF GODLINESS 91 
 
 ing to anybody, then all at once the young folks 
 and the town see you walking at midnight and 
 in the parks in the most intimate manner with 
 a beautiful and fascinating and perfectly 
 dressed young lady whose profession all know. 
 They know your newness to city life, and they 
 think that you do not know who she is. Do 
 you wonder they talk? That is not the work 
 of a city minister." 
 
 "Will you tell me what I should have done? 
 The girl threw herself under the cars at my 
 feet and I saved her life. I did not go down 
 into the slums to find her. She was thrown by 
 God into my path, a piece of h(dman wreckage 
 for me to save. Dare I disobey? Was it for 
 me to send her away again and not try to do 
 all I could to help her? What should I have 
 done?" 
 
 "Just this: your first step Sunday night was 
 all right; but having rescued her from under 
 the car, your next step was to have telephoned 
 to a city missionary, who would have come 
 immediately and have placed her in the hands 
 of the Society for the Aid of Fallen Women. 
 They would have taken up the case in the light 
 of long experience. The girl would have been 
 in the hands of experts who would have known 
 precisely what to do. Now, that is organiza-
 
 92 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 tion ; our church is a part of it ; we give liberally, 
 and some of our members are trustees and ex- 
 amine the institutions frequently. That is 
 business; that's modern organization. The 
 pastor of the church has all he can do to keep 
 active these organizations for relief; it is not 
 his part to do their work, any more than it 
 is the work of the captain of the ship to scrub 
 the deck." 
 
 "It may be business," the pastor broke out, 
 hotly, "but it is not Christ." He stood very 
 straight and tall and he looked the man squarely 
 in the eyes. "I did precisely what Christ would 
 have done. The pastor of a Christian church, 
 and every one of his church members, ought 
 to be doing such deeds every day of the year. 
 If the young people are offended, or if they 
 make gossip of such a thing, then they are in 
 a state of mind that should debar them from 
 good society. 'To the pure all things are 
 pure/ ' 
 
 "Careful, Pastor." In forty years the old 
 man had not been opposed like this. The pas- 
 tors usually had been lamb-like and submissive, 
 dominated completely by his tremendous per- 
 sonality. "You are in a city and you have got 
 to adapt yourself to the city point of view if 
 you are going to do the slightest bit of good.
 
 THE FORM OF GODLINESS 93 
 
 Monastery life will not go here. A man has 
 got to be practical in his religion and use com- 
 mon sense." 
 
 "Do you mean that there is a standard higher 
 than the four Gospels ? He gave His hand to 
 the very vilest and why shouldn't I?" There 
 was a dangerous gleam in the deep eyes; the 
 face was set in rigid lines. "I can tell you this, 
 Mr. Bradley, when a sinner comes in my way 
 who needs help I shall treat her as if she were 
 my own sister in need of help. Under the same 
 circumstances I shall do precisely the same 
 thing again. If my people are offended, then 
 they need a rebaptism with the spirit of Jesus 
 Christ." 
 
 "Mr. Gait, you are on dangerous ground." 
 
 "I stand on Christ and the four Gospels; 
 that's all I know." 
 
 "You have got to use common sense even 
 with the Gospels." There was anger in his 
 voice. "Now I know this city and I know our 
 people, and I will tell you right now that if you 
 keep on trying to help this woman in the way 
 you have done, there'll be a scandal here that 
 will do a harm to the church that the saving 
 of a hundred such women could not offset. 
 You can't touch pitch and not be defiled. I tell 
 you that I have lived in this city until I know
 
 94 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 whereof I speak, and I say what is God's 
 truth, that unless you drop this case utterly and 
 instantly it will stir up trouble for you and for 
 all of us and it will weaken our church. I don't 
 care what your motive may be, the church sim- 
 ply will not have you seen publicly with a 
 woman like that. That is my last word, and 
 I mean it. If you are wise, you will consider 
 it with diligence and prayer. Remember, I am 
 speaking for your good and for the good of 
 the Church of Christ. I leave you here. Good 
 night." He wheeled and walked with stiff, 
 nervous steps up the side street. 
 
 Gait had a swift impulse to hasten after him 
 and continue the argument, but he thought bet- 
 ter of it. 
 
 In his room he threw himself into his easy 
 chair without turning on his light. The clock 
 was striking nine ; the heavy tones boomed out 
 solemnly in the stillness. 
 
 And his church work had come to this. He 
 had been chided by his leading official for 
 attempting to rescue a perishing human soul. 
 By sheer will-power he controlled himself and 
 tried to look at the matter dispassionately. 
 Had he perhaps been unwise? Mr. Bradley 
 was an old man, full of experience and wisdom,
 
 THE FORM OF GODLINESS 95 
 
 and he was but a boy who knew little of city 
 life. It was not for him to be hasty and hot- 
 headed. But where had he erred? Could he 
 in the face of Christ's teachings have done oth- 
 erwise? Had it not been the very soul of His 
 mission to help the vilest, to give His own hand 
 and His own self even to the dregs of men, to 
 those indeed whom the haughty religious sys- 
 tem of His day had cast out? The thought 
 made him indignant again. And this was his 
 church work; this was what he had been pre- 
 paring all his life to do. Was he not fettered 
 and bound? Was he not in reality the execu- 
 tive of an exclusive social club. An impulse 
 surged upon him to cut loose altogether and to 
 be free as Christ was free. 
 
 He arose quickly in the darkness. For 
 shame! Ready to quit the fight at the first 
 encounter ! Had he not given his life to God ? 
 Had he forgotten that marvellous day at North- 
 field when there had come upon him the vision 
 of a new heaven and a new earth ? How easy 
 and how natural it had all seemed then, and 
 how glorious. "I can do all things through 
 Christ who strengthened me," he murmured 
 aloud. He turned on the light. He, must fly 
 to the word of God, where alone there was help.
 
 96 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 But he had scarcely taken his Bible when there 
 was a knock at the door. A bell-boy answered 
 his "Come!" 
 
 "Message for you, suh!" 
 
 It was in a hotel envelope. He tore it open 
 nervously. 
 
 "DEAR JOHNNY: 
 
 "We called for you at eight ; forgot all about 
 meeting, but there's time yet. We're off on the 
 car, but shall be at Larry's at ten. Freddie 
 came Monday, and we are just celebrating. 
 She's along. Come without fail; come for 
 God's sake. If you ever loved me, Johnny, 
 come. 
 
 "DICK." 
 
 He dropped back into the chair and read the 
 note over slowly. His impulse was to go in- 
 stantly, but prudence and conscience restrained 
 him. Here were three open and even militant 
 foes of his church, and why should he dine with 
 them in a public restaurant at ten o'clock at 
 night? If it were only Dick alone. Somehow 
 he longed for Dick ; his heart was crying aloud 
 for sympathy. He was at a crisis and besides 
 Dick there was not a soul in the whole city to 
 whom he could pour out his heart and expect 
 comprehension. Dick understood him. If it
 
 THE FORM OF GODLINESS 97 
 
 were even Dick and his sister, he might go. 
 She was a jolly, laughing girl, as he remem- 
 bered her, very human and sympathetic. The- 
 osophy was doubtless but a passing fad with 
 her but the woman! Was she not an open 
 foe to all that his church stood for? Was she 
 not upholding here in a Christian land the very 
 heathenism which the church at great sacrifice 
 was sending out missionaries to combat ? She 
 was worse than an infidel. She was one of 
 those coarse, masculine, strong-minded women 
 who are found ever in the van of all latter-day 
 newnesses. Thost there was a ring of an- 
 archy in the name. She would have a loud 
 voice, and she would dominate the table with 
 her arguments ; she would roar him down and, 
 worst of all, in her shallowness she would hon- 
 estly think that she had had the better of the 
 debate. There is no arguing with blatant 
 ignorance. He would not go. He shrank 
 instinctively from all that such a woman stands 
 for. 
 
 But Dick! He looked again at the well- 
 known handwriting. How like Dick it was, 
 full of quirks and unexpected little curls, but 
 firm and dependable and clear. And Dick 
 wanted him: "If ever you loved me, Johnny, 
 come." A great wave of loneliness swept over
 
 98 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 the pastor. By an impulse he pulled out his 
 watch ten minutes. There was just time. 
 For a moment he sat looking waveringly at 
 the watch, then he sprang to his feet, seized 
 his hat and coat, and started out into the dark- 
 ness.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 A SETTER FORTH OF STRANGE GODS 
 
 GALT was only a moment late; it seemed 
 indeed as if he were keeping an appoint- 
 ment. The attendant at the door, who seemed 
 to be waiting, took his hat and coat and ushered 
 him into a small side dining-room. The sud- 
 den blaze of light as the door swung open daz- 
 zled the pastor. He stopped and blinked ludi- 
 crously, his eyes full of the darkness. The glit- 
 ter of silver and glass, the ruddy glow from 
 the lamp-shades, the American Beauty roses, 
 and the sheen of napery and linen seemed com- 
 pletely to fill the room. A moment, and Dick 
 had him by the hand with a grip that made the 
 joints crackle. 
 
 "I knew it, Johnny; I knew you would 
 come," he cried, joyously. "Here you are; 
 here's your seat right here. We've been wait- 
 ing for you." He seized him by the arm and 
 pulled him toward the table as if they were 
 again students and this was a class banquet. 
 
 "Freddy," he cried, halting him before his 
 
 99
 
 ioo THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 sister, "this is the very Johnny that gave you 
 the class day of your life. He hasn't changed 
 a hair since you marched him around old 
 Main." 
 
 She laughed aloud and took his hand im- 
 pulsively with a grip as vigorous even as 
 Dick's. It was an infectious little laugh, the 
 laugh of one who ripples easily into merri- 
 ment. 
 
 "It's a real pleasure," she said heartily. 
 "But you have changed," she added after a 
 moment. "You really have changed greatly." 
 She looked at him and laughed again. She 
 was a plump, joyous little figure with a dimpled 
 chin and eyes that seemed constantly full of 
 merriment. Frieda Paine was the last person 
 in the world one would think of associating 
 with religious problems and the deep things of 
 life. 
 
 "Changed for the better. Any change 
 would have to be for the better," interpolated 
 Dick. 
 
 "Ah? And how?" he asked, ignoring the 
 remark. 
 
 Then he felt Dick's hand on his shoulder 
 again. 
 
 "Miss Thost," he was saying, "the Reverend 
 John Beecham Gait, pastor of the North Street
 
 STRANGE GODS 101 
 
 Church, better known in '97 circles as 
 'Johnny/ " 
 
 Gait turned and found himself bowing to a 
 delicate little woman who sat very erect and 
 very self-possessed, smiling as if half amused. 
 His first impression was of frailty and even of 
 physical feebleness, but the impression van- 
 ished instantly as his eyes met hers. A strange 
 thrill went through 'him. Here was a person- 
 ality. Never in his life, he thought, had he 
 seen a woman so striking. She had nothing 
 at all of beauty save perhaps an olive com- 
 plexion singularly clear, and nothing at all of 
 youth and girlishness. Her black hair, though 
 she could not have been over thirty-five, was 
 filled most strikingly with white. She had a 
 foreign look, Spanish perhaps or Italian, 
 and when she spoke it was with the slightest 
 trace of accent. 
 
 "I am pleased to know you, Mr. Gait," she 
 said, simply, but she did not bow and she did 
 not offer him her hand. 
 
 "You see, Johnny," Dick ran on, taking his 
 seat again with elaborate deliberation, "this is 
 the return of the prodigal daughter. I haven't 
 seen Freddie for two years and it's up to me. 
 This is the fatted calf. First, we had to do the 
 town of course. We went by way of the St.
 
 102 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 Cloud to get you, but I'd entirely forgotten 
 about its being the night you round up the 
 old maids and count 'em and salt 'em. Too 
 bad, Johnny." 
 
 "Why, Dick!" His sister looked at him a 
 moment in real astonishment and then went off 
 into a little ripple of laughter that shook her 
 greatly. 
 
 "Yes, I forgot all about your prayer-meet- 
 ing, so I left the note and here you are to the 
 minute, and you a preacher. How is it that 
 Shakespeare says it, 'Punctual, but yet a par- 
 son'?" 
 
 "Why, Dick, you made that up." Frieda 
 Paine, though she laughed easily, was not 
 greatly gifted with humor. "Shakespeare 
 never wrote that." 
 
 "Well, suppose he didn't; why do you criti- 
 cise me?" He looked over at her as if really 
 offended. "Am I to blame for what Shake- 
 speare didn't write?" 
 
 Miss Thost looked up quickly and then 
 smiled in a way that seemed to stimulate Dick. 
 It was worth saying one's best to have her face 
 light up like that. He launched out with ani- 
 mation into a harangue upon his conception of 
 the pastor's place in modern civilization. 
 
 "Yes," he cried at length, waving his fork
 
 STRANGE GODS 103 
 
 airily over the salad. "It's the spinster now 
 who makes and unmakes the parson. The 
 churches are manned by women. It's just as 
 Browning has put it, 'The distaff props the 
 altar.' " 
 
 "Browning!" sniffed his sister. 
 
 "Sure thing. Don't you know your Brown- 
 ing? That's in 'Sludge.' " 
 
 He was at his best. Somehow the silent 
 little woman beside him, so sensitive and so 
 responsive to his every word and mood, seemed 
 to work upon him like wine. In reality, de- 
 spite his claims to a knowledge of the sex, Dick 
 knew very little about women. Outside of the 
 courtroom he had met very few of them. He 
 hated society and never entered it. For years 
 his home, so far as he had had one, had been 
 the Blackstone Club, where he occupied two 
 rooms, both of them littered like a college 
 student's. He took breakfast and lunch at 
 Larry's; he dined always at the club at eight; 
 he smoked a cigar over a game or two of pool ; 
 then he read the evening papers and talked 
 athletics or politics or racing for a time and 
 went to bed. Sometimes when the mood was 
 "on him he went to the theatre, and on Saturday 
 afternoons in the season he attended the base- 
 ball games, but the rest of his time he gave
 
 104 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 heart and soul to the law firm of Harding, 
 Harding & Paine. He had not married, as he 
 always explained it, because his mistress, the 
 law, was too infernally jealous to permit such 
 a thing. He had no time, and besides he had 
 no high opinion of women. He had never seen 
 one yet who was not a doll or else a fool. The 
 law was enough for him: it was his wife and 
 family and home and religion. One thing only 
 had ever vied with it in his life. As the 
 autumn season came on he always grew rest- 
 less. He began to talk at the club more and 
 more of football. Then he would get to call- 
 ing up the head coach of the university on the 
 long-distance to talk over the make-up of 
 the team and the prospects. Then, at length, 
 late in October, when he could endure it no 
 longer, he would wake up some morning with 
 a jump, pull on his old clothes, stuff the grimy 
 old jacket and sweater and shoes into a suit- 
 case, and for the two weeks before the big 
 game would be "Bull" Paine, the old '97 half- 
 back, who had dropped everything right in the 
 busy season to coach up the 'varsity back field 
 which he had found lamentably weak. He had 
 no time for society and marriage. He had 
 lived so long his Bohemian life that he would 
 never change. He had hardened into ruts and
 
 STRANGE GODS 105 
 
 nothing but an explosion could ever change 
 him. 
 
 So it seemed, but to-night he was like an- 
 other Dick entirely. Gait heard him rattle on 
 with increasing wonder. He was ill at ease. 
 His mind in spite of himself kept circling back 
 to the episode which had followed the prayer- 
 meeting. If he could only dismiss the women 
 and have Dick alone, the old Dick, to whom he 
 might pour out his heart. But these women!' 
 He picked at the courses in a preoccupied way 
 and said nothing. His conscience was trou- 
 bling him. What would his church say if they 
 could see their pastor dining late at night in a 
 public resort with the, to them, notorious 
 Helda Thost, the setter forth of strange gods ? 
 The voice of Dick brought him up with a 
 start. 
 
 "What do you care, Johnny, what they 
 think?" 
 
 "Why who " he stopped short. Dick, 
 with the intuition of the cross-examiner, had 
 read his thoughts. 
 
 "Miss Thost," he leaned over to her half-con- 
 
 fidentially, "do you know Johnny here Mr. 
 
 '"Gait had an idea before he saw you that you 
 
 were some kind of fire-worshipper. He 
 
 thought you would have idols in your reticule
 
 io6 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 and a praying-machine and that you would bow 
 down to wood and stone right before us. You 
 know his church paper the only really mod- 
 ern thing Johnny ever reads and those maiden 
 ladies of his, class you in the same category 
 with a certain peculiar-footed gentleman well 
 known for his lack of philanthropy." 
 
 "Why should they do that?" A shade of 
 pain flitted over her face. She looked up at 
 Gait appealingly like a child. 
 
 "You'll have to answer that, Johnny. It's 
 up to you, now." There was a twinkle in his 
 eyes. He looked at his sister and chuckled, 
 but Gait did not see him. 
 
 "Why, nothing only " he stammered and 
 stopped. He had been taken by surprise. He 
 looked up to find the clear eyes of the woman 
 full upon him. "You know you are hardly 
 with the church," he blurted out, lamely. 
 
 "One must belong then to the church ?" 
 
 Somehow the reproach in her voice and the 
 look in her eyes confused him. This was not 
 at all the kind of woman he had expected. 
 
 "But you are opposed to Christianity," he 
 burst out. "You lecture against us. You lead 
 people to doubt the truth, and to stray they 
 know not whither." 
 
 "Have you ever heard me lecture?" She
 
 STRANGE GODS 107 
 
 leaned over almost appealingly, her voice very 
 soft and low. 
 
 "No," he said, decisively. 
 
 "But you have read some of the things I 
 have said?" 
 
 "No; but I know how you stand. You set 
 forth strange doctrines. You " Somehow 
 he stopped. 
 
 "Yet you have never investigated them." 
 She lowered her chin reprovingly and looked 
 at him with round, unflinching eyes. There 
 was in her voice a hurt tone that made him feel 
 instantly like apologizing, but he was defend- 
 ing all that was sacred in his life, and he hard- 
 ened his heart. 
 
 "But you reject the church of Jesus Christ," 
 he cried. "What more need I say than that?" 
 He spoke very earnestly. There was fire in 
 the deep eyes and unwonted color in the cheeks. 
 He had forgotten himself. 
 
 "Oh, no, Mr. Gait, you really don't mean 
 that." She spoke as to a dull child patiently 
 yet with a little tone of reproof. "I believe 
 with all my heart in the Christian church. I 
 believe in its fundamentals as firmly as even 
 do you." She smiled at his look of wonder. 
 
 There was about her not the least suggestion 
 of argument. It seemed almost boorish to op-
 
 108 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 pose this gentle little woman who was so tol- 
 erant and so sweetly feminine. Somehow in 
 spite of himself he felt like agreeing with her, 
 and yet he kept on. 
 
 "But your strange beliefs, your occultism, 
 your transmigration ?" 
 
 "Are merely accessories, Mr. Gait." She 
 smiled at him again indulgently. "They are 
 non-essentials, mere details." 
 
 He did not answer. What was it about this 
 frail little woman that so moved upon him? 
 She was stronger than he, he felt it intui- 
 tively, and she looked at life from a serener 
 level. He toyed with his salad fork and stud- 
 ied her more intently than he realized. 
 
 "But even Christians have taught these same 
 things." It was Miss Paine's voice that 
 broke the silence. "Prominent Christians, too. 
 There was Browning. You'll remember that 
 he said " 
 
 "Ah, I knew it; I've been waiting for it." 
 Dick threw up his hand ecstatically. "Think 
 of a debate like this without Browning! Do 
 you know, Johnny, Freddie here was the high 
 muck-a-muck of a Browning club five years? 
 When you take thirty-two degrees, you are 
 ready for the next lodge, and to enter it you 
 must recite Sordello backwards. Give us a
 
 STRANGE GODS 109 
 
 little of it, Freddie. Commence gently and let 
 Johnny note the effect. You have no idea how 
 it gains in force and clearness when you run it 
 with the reverse gear." 
 
 "But Browning was not voicing himself; he 
 was " 
 
 "Here, Johnny, careful," Dick broke in 
 abruptly. "Don't you go to fooling around. 
 They are loaded." 
 
 "But what is your creed?" As if heeding 
 Dick's warning, the pastor began on another 
 tack. 
 
 " 'I sit as God, holding no form of creed, 
 But contemplating all. 
 
 Tennyson voiced that. We reject nothing 
 that is good. We take the best the soul of man 
 has found in all lands and all times. We stand 
 for the universal brotherhood of man without 
 distinction of race or creed." 
 
 Again Gait was silent. Here truly was a 
 woman of different mold from those in his 
 prayer-meeting. Not only her words, but her 
 manner and look moved him strangely. His 
 own arguments seemed somehow full of cant 
 and littleness. 
 
 "In the fundamentals, Mr. Gait, all religions 
 are the same," she went on, in a voice very
 
 no THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 soft and feminine. "Prejudice must not blind 
 us to the truth wherever we may find that 
 truth. I have studied Christianity very care- 
 fully for years, and I accept it and am a Chris- 
 tian, just as I am a Brahminist, or a Buddhist, 
 or a Confucian, or a Zoroasterist." 
 
 There was not the slightest suggestion in her 
 tone of argument or of lecturing. It was as 
 if she were joining in ordinary table talk and 
 explaining the most matter-of-fact thing in the 
 world. 
 
 "But do you accept the divinity of Christ?" 
 Gait asked almost eagerly. "Do you accept 
 that?" 
 
 "Most certainly, and the divinity of all men." 
 
 "There, Johnny, you don't dare to do that. 
 Ah-h, but here is Charley, and he has got the 
 climax. Now we'll ascend to real life. I 
 won't hear another word. Tut! tut! Not 
 another word. Do you know my definition of 
 sacrilege? It's arguing on religion when you 
 have got stuff like that just ready to carve. 
 Just look at it. Why, the very smell of it is a 
 religion." He cocked his head from side to 
 side as if enraptured. 
 
 "But, Miss Thost " 
 
 "Time's up, Johnny." He raised his carv- 
 ing-fork with a warning gesture. "You're out
 
 STRANGE GODS in 
 
 of order. 'Preaching may endure for an hour/ 
 as Browning says, 'but joy cometh with the 
 benediction/ and here we have it, right here 
 now. What'll you have, Miss Thost?" 
 
 The woman evidently had a sense of humor. 
 She looked up at Dick a puzzled instant and 
 laughed aloud. But Frieda Paine seemed to 
 be annoyed. 
 
 "It's the same old Dick/' she said, glancing 
 half-nervously at the pastor. "But you know 
 him, Mr. Gait." 
 
 "I have lived with him." 
 
 "Now, look here." He leaned back in an 
 injured way. "Why do you have to apologize 
 for me ? This isn't any congress of religions ; 
 this isn't any Browning Club pink tea. 
 Charley, you are the only one here who really 
 understands this occasion. Ah, you're the boy. 
 See what Charley's brought. Now that's re- 
 ligion." 
 
 "That's just the matter with you, Dick." 
 There was irritation in his sister's voice, but 
 there was none in her eyes. One never knew 
 whether to take Frieda Paine seriously or not. 
 "You can't see one inch over your dinner- 
 plate. You are just a cold-blooded materialist. 
 Men and women to you are just phenomena; 
 just reactions in a test-tube."
 
 H2 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "The ground floor comes first, Freddy." 
 
 "But you don't have to stay there all your 
 life." 
 
 "Hold on there, sister Freddie ; wait one little 
 bit. How about the three square meals a day ? 
 Don't forget them. Remember the cold in the 
 head and the chapped hands and the rheuma- 
 tism. Don't forget the butcher's meat and the 
 grocery bill and the laundry bag and the ever- 
 lasting pocketbook. Keep your feet right on 
 the ground, Freddy, dear. There's where you 
 live. I tell you what you people need is prac- 
 tical instruction, and it's up to me. You can't 
 run even a religion on theory. What you need 
 is life as it is actually lived on this planet, and 
 by George, you are going to get it. I've made 
 up my mind. To-morrow morning you are 
 going with me down to the police court and the 
 jail, the whole of you. Then I'm going to 
 show you some select scenes among the tene- 
 ments. We'll start at ten." 
 
 "No, Dick" 
 
 "You heard what I said, Johnny. This 
 thing is going. I know my duty when it looms 
 right up before me like a hearse-house. It is 
 up to me for missionary work if ever it was up 
 to a man." 
 
 It was an hour later when they left the
 
 STRANGE GODS 113 
 
 restaurant. Gait had really enjoyed his even- 
 ing. The woman had been the direct opposite 
 of all that he had pictured. It seemed to him 
 that he had never before met a soul so sensitive, 
 so electric, so perfectly poised. It was exhila- 
 rating to talk with her; it thrilled him some- 
 how to his very best Her words opened into 
 the vast places and the deeps of life. Again 
 and again he found himself comparing her 
 with the shallow little women of his prayer- 
 meeting. It seemed to him that he had never 
 known anyone so perfectly tolerant, so charita- 
 ble, and so broad of horizon. What would his 
 work not be if all his women were like her! 
 How it would call forth and stimulate the very 
 best that was in his life ! 
 
 They found the automobile at the door, and 
 before the pastor realized it he was sitting be- 
 side her in the tonneau and Dick was closing 
 the door. 
 
 "Freddie will ride up in front with me," he 
 was saying; "I want to teach her to drive," 
 and in a moment they were off. 
 
 Automatically Gait pulled up the robes and 
 arranged them. What a tiny little thing she 
 was as she sank back there in the seat amid 
 her furs. Until she spoke one saw only her 
 frailness and her almost child-like figure, but
 
 H4 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 the impression vanished always the moment 
 she began to talk. Her voice now sent through 
 him a sudden thrill. 
 
 "So you find your work discouraging at 
 times ?" she said, as if resuming a broken con- 
 versation. 
 
 "Why, yes," he stammered. "I suppose 
 everyone does." The question made him start 
 almost guiltily. It was as if she had read his 
 thoughts. 
 
 "The outlook is discouraging; I find it very 
 discouraging," she went on in a musing way. 
 "It is really hard to keep oneself from pessi- 
 
 mism." 
 
 "Why so?" he asked evasively. He did not 
 quite understand her. He was on his guard 
 yet, and he must be ready. This undoubtedly 
 was the prelude to an attack upon the 
 church. 
 
 "There is so little of spirituality, every- 
 where," she said, looking up at him with trou- 
 bled eyes. "Don't you find it so? There is no 
 vision. It is all rush and materialism. Men 
 are living as if they knew there was nothing 
 beyond the things of mere sense. Even the 
 church is becoming worldly and vain." There 
 was no doubting the sincerity of the woman. 
 There was a little quiver in her voice, and her
 
 STRANGE GODS 115 
 
 eyes, very round and honest like a child's, 
 looked into his appealingly. 
 
 "Why, I hardly expected you would say that, 
 Miss Thost." The words were out before he 
 realized it. 
 
 "And why not, Mr. Gait?" The look in her 
 eyes changed to wonder. 
 
 "Why, I don't know ," he began, curiously 
 embarrassed, he knew not why. One of his 
 strong points as a pastor had been his perfect 
 ease in society. Always he had been a model 
 of grace and dignity and swiftness of repartee. 
 Not one of his congregation had ever seen him 
 flurried, but all the evening somehow he had 
 felt like an awkward boy. "To be honest, 
 Miss Thost," he began, with suddenness, "I 
 had always supposed that you taught some kind 
 of fantastic religious system, a mere germ of 
 truth expanded into a religion, something 
 like Christian Science " 
 
 "There is very much indeed to admire in 
 Christian Science," she said, smiling at him in 
 a chiding way. 
 
 "Yes, yes, but your cycles of incarnation, 
 your soul and its sheaths, your planes of incar- 
 nation." 
 
 "And you know only that ? What have you 
 read of our books ?"
 
 Ii6 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "I have not read any." 
 
 "And you never have heard any of our lec- 
 tures ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "And yet you condemn us ?" 
 
 "But it is not the gospel of Jesus Christ, and 
 that is all I care to know." 
 
 "Frankly, is that not narrowness, Mr. Gait? 
 Is it not prejudice as real as that which filled 
 the Pharisees of Jesus' day ? Oh, you all do it. 
 You do not care to seek for the Truth, the 
 whole Truth. And yet your Master said, 'Ye 
 shall know the Truth and the Truth shall make 
 you free/ You condemn us all unheard. You 
 condemn Christian Science; you condemn 
 things that you have not the slightest knowl- 
 edge of. You are intolerant. Oh, seek the 
 Truth in everything, Mr. Gait, for there is 
 truth in everything. Be open-souled and 
 broad-viewed. My religion is but another 
 name for toleration and a search for the Truth, 
 and 'the Truth shall make you free/ I build 
 on the Christ principles as much as even you, 
 and I build on everything else that is Truth. 
 I seek only spirituality and purity and love and 
 holiness." There was a thrill in her tone that 
 went through him strangely. She spoke plead- 
 ingly, a light in her eyes that he had seen only
 
 STRANGE GODS 117 
 
 in the faces of a few rare souls at the altar at 
 communion time. 
 
 "Then why is not the church enough?" he 
 asked, lamely. "Why can not you find in the 
 Christian church all that you seek?" 
 
 "The church, ah, that implies there is but 
 one, Mr. Gait." Her eyes seemed to be search- 
 ing him through. "That is narrowness. I 
 would not be bound to the traditions and dog- 
 mas and conventionalities of one small circle 
 of men; I would seek Truth universal. I 
 would be free even as God and the souls of 
 men are free. I want all Truth; I want the 
 best of all the best." There was no question- 
 ing her honesty. She was speaking not for 
 effect, and not to win him to her cult, but from 
 her soul. It was a communion of kindred 
 spirits, a longing for comprehension by one 
 who seldom found one who could comprehend. 
 He felt it and was silent. 
 
 "Do you not sometimes long for more free- 
 dom, Mr. Gait?" she went on, after a pause. 
 "Don't you sometimes find the conventions and 
 the machinery of your church cramping and 
 .dwarfing you? Don't you sometimes long to 
 be free as Christ was free? The machinery 
 of your church and the mass of your creeds 
 have all come since His day." She was leaning
 
 n8 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 over in her earnestness and looking into his 
 face almost with eagerness. 
 
 The pastor was strangely stirred, he hardly 
 realized why. There was something about 
 her presence, her intensity of feeling, her voice, 
 her rapt spiritual face that seemed to play upon 
 all that was deepest within him. She seemed 
 to be voicing his own thoughts ; she seemed to 
 be speaking as if she had known him all her 
 life and had known his experiences and the 
 working of his soul. It was on his tongue's 
 end to tell her of the episode of the early even- 
 ing, to tell her everything of his doubts and 
 struggles of late and to ask her advice. He 
 felt that she of all persons he had ever known 
 would comprehend and sympathize. There 
 was more: he felt the power of a strong- 
 winged soul, one who has wrestled long and 
 has triumphed, one who has had large experi- 
 ence of life, that has thought deeply, and has 
 risen to the height that only pure spirit knows. 
 The mood of confession was upon him com- 
 pellingly, but before he had spoken a word the 
 car drew up to the hotel door. There was no 
 chance to say more if he would. 
 
 "Remember, Johnny/' Dick shouted, a mo- 
 ment later. "To-morrow at ten." 
 
 "I can't go, Dick, really. My work"
 
 STRANGE GODS 119 
 
 "Chuck the work, Johnny. I shall be here 
 at ten, sharp." 
 
 "But, Dick" 
 
 "Ten, sharp, Johnny. Good night, old 
 man." 
 
 Gait went to his room and flung himself 
 into his armchair wearily. Miss Thost Mr. 
 Bradley Isobel Carniston his brain was in 
 a whirl. Truly within the past week life had 
 been heaping itself upon him. 
 
 "Helda Thost," he spoke the words aloud. 
 How utterly his picture of her had been re- 
 versed. He could think of nothing else. He 
 found his mind again and again going auto- 
 matically over her words. Her personality 
 seemed still to envelop him and to dominate 
 him. He tried to divest himself of her and to 
 straighten it all out. Were her words not, 
 after all, a devilish sophistry which the com- 
 pelling power of her presence had made to 
 seem like the message from another world? 
 He tried to analyze it in cold blood, but do what 
 he might he could find no false note. It had 
 been one sensitive soul telling of its discourage- 
 ments and its ideals to a kindred spirit. And 
 this was Helda Thost, the worshipper at 
 strange shrines, this dainty little woman, 
 with the appealing eyes so childlike in their
 
 120 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 honesty, with the sad smile and the soul so 
 tremulously sensitive that at times she seemed 
 half ethereal. He leaned back and shut his 
 eyes as if to screen out the image that had so 
 possessed him. In vain; everywhere was 
 Helda Thost and the low tones of her voice, 
 "Oh, don't you long to be free, free, free, as 
 Christ was free?" 
 
 He arose and paced the room. "Come out 
 from among them and be ye separate, saith 
 the Lord," Mr. Bradley had quoted. But how 
 could he do this in the light of Christ's ex- 
 ample? Was not the coming out from the 
 world and the separation into pure and impure, 
 holy and unholy, high and low, rich and poor, 
 the root of the whole trouble with the church? 
 Had it not set a dead-line between the world 
 and the church that was well-nigh impossible 
 to cross? Did it not forbid the pastor of a 
 church to associate in any way with Isobel 
 Carniston and even with Helda Thost? Was 
 not the church, as she had said, unutterably 
 narrow and prejudiced? Would he not rejoice 
 to have a membership in his church made up of 
 souls just like her, and yet Mr. Bradley, and 
 indeed all the other members of his church, 
 would regard her as a very embodiment of 
 evil.
 
 STRANGE GODS 121 
 
 Midnight found the pastor crouched in his 
 armchair, his chin in his palms. His Bible, his 
 usual refuge in perplexity, lay all untouched by 
 his right hand; for once in his life he had not 
 thought of it. 
 
 There was a knock at the door; it went 
 through him as if it had been upon his heart. 
 He sprang up in confusion. Such a thing had 
 never happened to him before at midnight. 
 
 "Come in," he said unsteadily. A bell-boy 
 entered. 
 
 "Message, suh ; just left here," he announced. 
 
 " Any answer required ?" 
 
 "No, suh." 
 
 It was not a telegram ; it was a note sent by 
 messenger. He tore open the envelop with 
 excited fingers. Who could want him at this 
 time of night? 
 
 "Come to 43 Water St. instantly. Very im- 
 portant. Haste. Dillon." 
 
 Dillon? Dillon? prescription blank ah, 
 "J. H. Dillon, M.D." 43 Water Street, why 
 that was Mother Brown's. The doctor was 
 there. Haste was evident in every line of the 
 note. It was Isobel Carniston suicide! the 
 deduction came with a thump of the heart.
 
 122 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 Without waiting to put on his overcoat, he 
 seized his hat and plunged into the street. By 
 good luck he caught the 12:15 car and in five 
 minutes he was at the door. Before he could 
 knock, a brusque young man of thirty with full 
 beard and spectacles fronted him. 
 
 "Mr. Gait?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes. What is it? Suicide?" 
 
 "Suicide nothing ! It's the Carniston woman ; 
 she's in bad shape. You oughtn't to go in or 
 anybody else but the nurse, but she's head- 
 strong's the devil. She hasn't much chance 
 and she won't have any unless she can be 
 quieted down. She raves and begs for you, 
 and we can't stop her. She thinks she is going 
 to die and she's got it into her head that you 
 can save her. Now you quiet her down as 
 quick as God'll let you; if you don't she's out 
 of it." 
 
 "And it isn't suicide?" The pastor spoke 
 the word in a whisper. 
 
 "No, no. She's been keyed too high for a 
 day or two, that's what's brought it on. She 
 tore round, they say, like a she-devil Sunday, 
 and well, you know what the trouble was. 
 Now, don't you preach or stir her up. Just 
 quiet her right down just as quick as you know
 
 STRANGE GODS 123 
 
 how. Tell her she isn't going to die any more 
 than you are." 
 
 He turned to find Mother Brown at his 
 elbow. 
 
 "In this way," she said softly. "She is 
 dreadfully excited. She just lies and wrings 
 her hands and orders us to send for you. She 
 will have you. We can't quiet her. She thinks 
 she is going to die, and really, unless she stops, 
 she will. You just soothe her down." 
 
 He followed her on tiptoe into a dim little 
 room and was conscious with a sudden intake 
 of the breath of a mass of wondrous gold on 
 a pillow, her hair loose and tumbled. She 
 seemed to be watching the door, and with her 
 first glimpse of him she arose in tremulous 
 eagerness to her elbow. 
 
 "Mr. Gait, Mr. Gait, is it you?" she cried. 
 
 "No, no, you mustn't you mustn't exert 
 yourself," the nurse said, trying gently to 
 force her down again. "You must lie perfectly 
 still." 
 
 "She's right, Miss Carniston," the pastor 
 knelt at the bedside. "You must obey the 
 nurse; you must lie right back." 
 
 "They are lying to me I know it I heard 
 the doctor. I am going to die and I can't,
 
 124 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 and I won't, I won't die. Why don't you 
 do something ? Pray ! You must pray, quick. 
 Pray! And you let me die here like a dog. 
 Oh, I can't die, I can't, I can't, I can't." She 
 was on her elbow again, crying and sobbing, 
 her eyes wild with animal terror. 
 
 "But there's no danger. The doctor told me 
 so not a moment ago. There, there, lie back 
 you mustn't." 
 
 "They lie; I know what he said oh, my 
 God, I want to live. Pray! God, why don't 
 you pray?" She spoke almost with fierce- 
 ness. 
 
 Instantly he bowed his head upon the cot 
 and prayed with his whole heart. He was 
 gifted in prayer; he had often prayed at the 
 bedside of the dying. She was silent, instantly. 
 
 "Now it will be all right," he said softly, as 
 he closed his prayer and looked into her burn- 
 ing face. "You have nothing to fear now. I 
 have made it all right. Now, you go to sleep." 
 
 "Are you sure?" she gasped. "Are you 
 sure ? Oh, you must tell me tell me, I demand 
 it." She thrust out her hand waveringly and 
 caught his with the grip of a spent swimmer. 
 Then she clung with both hands and looked up 
 at him as if he personally had power to save 
 her. He did not loosen her hand; he sat on
 
 STRANGE GODS 125 
 
 the bedside and began to talk to her as if she 
 were a frightened child. 
 
 "Can't you believe me?" he said softly, look- 
 ing into her eyes. "Do you think I would lie 
 to you? If you were going to die I would be 
 the first to tell you, for you ought to know. 
 Now, I tell you that you will be all right to- 
 morrow if you are only good and keep quiet 
 and rest. There, now, don't say another 
 word." 
 
 "Are you sure?" she burst out, trying to 
 struggle again to her elbow in her eagerness to 
 know the truth. "Are you sure?" 
 
 "Why should I deceive you? I tell you hon- 
 estly that you will be all right if you only do 
 just as I tell you. Now, you must do just as 
 I tell you. Hear me, just as I tell you. I am 
 going to pull you through. Now you must do 
 just as I say. Now, to sleep, to sleep, to 
 sleep " He spoke more and more softly, his 
 whole will-power bent on subduing her and 
 sending her into sleep. The terror faded from 
 her eyes, she fell back and at length closed her 
 eyes. She still clung to his hand, however, as 
 if it alone kept her in life. 
 
 "Now, just rest, rest, rest," he went on, 
 monotonously. "You must go to sleep, go to 
 sleep, go to sleep."
 
 126 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 By and by he tried to take away his hand, 
 but she clung convulsively and started up in 
 fresh terror. 
 
 "Oh, you mustn't go, you mustn't," she cried 
 out. "Oh, I can't die. Oh, I can't die, now." 
 
 Again he fixed his eyes upon her and talked 
 her into sleep, and after what seemed to him 
 hours, he unclasped her hands and tiptoed 
 from the room. 
 
 The rest of the night he slept on the sofa in 
 Mother Brown's kitchen.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 SOULS INSURGENT 
 
 THERE is little of actual misery in an 
 American manufacturing city when the 
 times are good and the mills are in full opera- 
 tion. Frieda Paine had laughed at Dick's pro- 
 posed expedition. Wickedness enough there 
 doubtless was, but they would see very little of 
 it in a daytime trip. 
 
 "We'll see a few Italian shanties and a 
 drunken man or two," she said, lightly. "That 
 will be all the slums a little city like this can 
 boast of. Even in New York you never see 
 very much actual misery. They show you 
 some dark alleys and some air-shafts and a 
 thousand clothes-lines, then they show you the 
 new tenements and the playgrounds and tell 
 how much they cost and what the rent is. 
 Then you have seen the slums." Frieda Paine 
 had taken a course in slumming and she knew 
 what she was talking about. "If it wasn't for 
 offending Dick, I wouldn't go a step. He'll 
 
 drag us around the dumps and the cheap sa- 
 
 127
 
 128 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 loons, and when we hold our noses he'll say 
 it is real life and just what we need." 
 
 But Dick had his own ideas as to slumming. 
 He knew his ground thoroughly, and he had, 
 moreover, the lawyer's instinct for climax. 
 He knew what his sister never suspected, that 
 it had been a hard winter in the little city. 
 There had been a disastrous strike. Thou- 
 sands of men had had no employment since 
 October, and as a result there had been fearful 
 suffering among the lower elements of the for- 
 eign population. Soup kitchens and a bread- 
 line had alleviated it to some extent, but even 
 with these there were families on the verge of 
 starvation. Crime had increased greatly; the 
 police court every morning was full of a pitiful 
 throng, and often among them were mere lads 
 and tiny children. 
 
 The court that morning seemed as if espe- 
 cially arranged for Dick. As it happened 
 there had been no day for weeks when so much 
 wretchedness and squalor and sordid crime had 
 been compressed into a single session. It was 
 as if it had been previously planned as a sort 
 of clinic to enable him to lecture upon the mis- 
 ery and the wickedness of human life. His 
 wide experience in the criminal courts enabled 
 him to enter into each case with minuteness
 
 SOULS INSURGENT 129 
 
 and to picture with confidence the past and the 
 probable future of each of the victims. The 
 party was in the hands of an expert. The 
 human wreckage before them rendered ex- 
 ceedingly graphic the recitals of misery and 
 degradation and appetite, of suffering little 
 children, of women lost to shame, of men with 
 the stamp of God forever blotted from their 
 faces. There was a flippancy, a cold-blooded 
 and matter-of-course tone about the young law- 
 yer that made it all doubly horrible. It was, 
 indeed, as his sister had said, as if he was talk- 
 ing about chemicals and reactions in a test- 
 tube. 
 
 Gait stole a glance at Miss Thost. Her eyes 
 were welling with tears, and there was in her 
 face something he had never seen before. It 
 brought a lump into his throat. He knew pre- 
 cisely how she felt and it stimulated him 
 strangely. His heart beat more rapidly; his 
 breath came in short gasps. It was as it was 
 at Northfield on that day of days. Oh, to help 
 these men and these pitiful little children. 
 Here was the field. It was white for the har- 
 vest, but there was none to labor. Stronger 
 and stronger it surged within him to get to 
 work with his whole life and soul in this harvest 
 that was crying to heaven for laborers. And
 
 130 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 the impulse became more and more compelling 
 when later they inspected the workhouse and 
 when, under Dick's skillful guidance, they went 
 through the wretched tenements. 
 
 "Here am I !" his soul cried out within him. 
 "Send me. Here indeed is the field, 'the field 
 is the world.' ' Here was work for a thou- 
 sand. Why give his whole time to those who 
 were already in the church and neglect the 
 great, suffering areas like these? The seeds 
 of revolt were germinating within him. This 
 had been the whole work of Jesus Christ : why 
 not that of all His followers ? 
 
 "Do you think, Mr. Gait, that Christ would 
 take the pastorate of a large church if He 
 should come again, or would He rather work 
 here in the tenements ?" 
 
 "No. He would go into no church," he an- 
 swered, decisively, as if the argument within 
 him had not been with his own soul but with 
 her. "He would work only here." Then it 
 occurred to him with a strange sort of thrill 
 that she had not spoken before for it seemed to 
 him an hour. She had read his thoughts. 
 
 "Yes, I think He would," she said, musingly. 
 
 "You know, Miss Thost," he began eagerly 
 to explain, as if she had caught him somehow 
 off his guard, and he had said what he should
 
 SOULS INSURGENT 131 
 
 not. "You know it's the work of all others I 
 have always wanted to do." 
 
 "Then why do you not do it?" Something 
 in her tone made him feel uncomfortable. 
 
 "Why, I I shall sometime. It appeals to 
 me above everything else. I should like to 
 enter every one of these doors and become in- 
 timately acquainted with every soul who lives 
 here. I should like to be their best friend and 
 to lift them up and teach them to live. I think 
 I could help them." 
 
 "Yes," she said, slowly, "you could help 
 them." 
 
 He glanced up at her, quickly. The woman 
 puzzled him. What was she really thinking? 
 What was going on behind those inscrutable 
 eyes with their yearning look, those eyes that 
 looked quite through him and beyond him? 
 She had summed him up, he knew, and had 
 classified him. What was the verdict ? Some- 
 how he felt small and uneasy. He had con- 
 fessed that he had not taken the road that his 
 heart and his soul had commanded, but had 
 turned into the easier way, the way that his 
 Master would have shunned. He was not a 
 strong man ; he was a time-server ; and she had 
 found it out and she despised him. 
 
 "But you, " he said, suddenly, as if in self-
 
 132 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 defense "does this field not appeal to you? 
 Why do you lecture on esoteric abstractions to 
 little groups of cultured and wealthy ones when 
 there is so much to do here?" He was sorry 
 for the boorish words before they were out of 
 his mouth. A swift look of pain swept over 
 her face. She looked up at him like a hurt 
 child. 
 
 "You have never heard me lecture, Mr. 
 Gait," she said, in a low voice. "And you do 
 not know how often I come into places like 
 this. I have not the strength to do all that I 
 would." 
 
 "Oh, pardon me, Miss Thost," he cried. "I 
 didn't realize what I said. Of course you can't 
 do such work, but I can. I have got strength 
 enough. There is no excuse for my not plung- 
 ing in with my whole life. I 'was just trying 
 to excuse myself, that was all." 
 
 "But your church, Mr. Gait, is almost 
 heathendom, is it not ?" she said, changing her 
 ground with woman-like swiftness. "How 
 much of real Christianity has it? Doesn't it 
 need all the spirituality you can possibly give 
 it?" 
 
 "Yes, but these people here need everything. 
 Christ did not work with the Pharisees, but
 
 SOULS INSURGENT 133 
 
 with the lepers. Look at that baby there, for 
 instance/' 
 
 A small boy had come tumbling out of a 
 front door, leaving it half open, and a baby, 
 naked save for a little calico dress, had rolled 
 itself out upon the frosty step. 
 
 "Why, the poor little thing," she cried. "Its 
 feet are bare and right in that snow." 
 
 "I am going to carry him in," he announced, 
 suddenly. 
 
 "I will go with you." 
 
 "Ah, baby, up, up!" Gait went to the child 
 and held out his hands, awkwardly. "Want 
 to go to find mamma?" The baby put its 
 thumb into its mouth and stared, stolidly. It 
 was pale and frail like a thing that has grown 
 in the shade; its dress was wet; and its little 
 face and hands were sticky with dirt. 
 
 "Here we go !" cried the pastor, and gather- 
 ing it up, a screaming little atom, dirt and all, 
 he pushed on into the passageway and through 
 an open door to the left. 
 
 His first impression was of a room with stove 
 and bed and table, in unspeakable disorder. 
 There was no fire. A haggard woman in the 
 bed struggled into a sitting posture and looked 
 at them in startled confusion. An infant only
 
 134 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 a few days old lay in the bed beside her, and 
 crouched by the footboard sat a little girl of 
 four, her hair in a tangled mat. 
 
 "We've brought your baby in," explained 
 the pastor, in a hearty tone. "The rascal was 
 running away." 
 
 The woman answered him confusedly in a 
 foreign tongue. 
 
 "Can't you speak English?" he asked. 
 
 "Nor." She shook her head, helplessly. 
 
 "It's Canadian French," Miss Thost whis- 
 pered. "Let me speak with her." 
 
 Gait understood nothing of the rapid dia- 
 logue that followed, but he saw a new look 
 come into the woman's face. She held up the 
 baby for them to see, then she lay down while 
 Miss Thost straightened out the bed. 
 
 "The man is a spinner and has had no work 
 for five months," she announced in English 
 over her shoulder. "He is drunken, and he 
 abuses her and the children.' ; 
 
 She made the bed with the skill of a nurse, 
 smoothing out the rags and garments which 
 had been mussed into the centre and gathering 
 together the rude playthings which had been 
 used all day by the children. It was a poor 
 apology for a bed, but she brought it into some- 
 thing like order. As she tucked in the foot the
 
 SOULS INSURGENT 135 
 
 baby, which Gait had deposited there, held up 
 its pitiful little hands. 
 
 "You poor little thing," she cried, gathering 
 it into her arms. "You are as cold as ice. I 
 wonder if there isn't a shawl about here or 
 something." Gait sprang to look. There was 
 no shawl, but there were garments that could 
 be pinned about the little thing, and there was 
 a pair of very dirty stockings in the debris 
 under the bed. 
 
 "I'm going to wash those little hands and 
 that poor little face/' she burst out. "I just 
 can't stand it. And, Mr. Gait, the woman says 
 there is a grocery store two blocks down. 
 Won't you please run down quick and tell them 
 to send some wood and coal right up, and two 
 or three loaves of bread and two quarts of milk ? 
 Tell them to have it here at once." 
 
 On the sidewalk Gait found Dick and his 
 sister, their faces full of anxiety. 
 
 "Here, Johnny, wait a minute. Where in 
 thunder are you going ? Where's Miss Thost ? 
 Anything wrong ? What is it ? We've hunted 
 two hours, supposed you were right behind 
 us, and when we looked back you had disap- 
 peared." 
 
 "She's in there, Number 18. I'm in a 
 hurry."
 
 136 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "What is it, Johnny ? She isn't hurt, is she ? 
 She didn't " but the pastor was out of hail 
 down the street. 
 
 An hour later when they started back to the 
 automobile Dick had recovered his equilibrium 
 and was in full voice. 
 
 "You can't do anything with a Canuck, 
 Johnny," he ran on. "You might as well try 
 to help a litter of coyotes. They are worthless ; 
 they are utterly undependable. They will lie 
 the minute they are born and steal before they 
 can walk, and if they can't get anything else to 
 drink they will drink kerosene oil. Now that 
 Canuck will go home and hock that coal before 
 dark. Then with the money he'll tank up on 
 sulphuric acid and wood alcohol and kick the 
 woman and kids two blocks down the street. 
 That's the Canuck of it." 
 
 "What would you do; let them freeze to 
 death?" 
 
 "Oh, you can't freeze Canucks, Johnny ; don't 
 you worry about that. What you see there is 
 just the normal life of an average Canuck. 
 When you set 'em up in coal and milk and such 
 things you give them an abnormal environment 
 and you ruin 'em. But I am glad you saw 'em, 
 all the same; it will do you good. Trouble 
 with you folks up on the hill is that you keep
 
 SOULS INSURGENT 137 
 
 right in your own little half -acre lot and refuse 
 to look an inch beyond it. You don't want to 
 know. You call such papers as the Police 
 News yellow and all that, when the truth is 
 that they are actually reeking with human life 
 as it is really lived on this planet. You throw 
 fits at the bare mention of a Sunday journal, 
 and then you go into your churches and take 
 up a kid-glove collection for the poor and thank 
 God you are so good. Pshaw! Say, Johnny, 
 take this case now ; write it up just as it is pre- 
 cisely, with pictures of the room and the kids 
 and all that sort of thing and who in your 
 church would read it? They'd say the thing 
 was impossible and call it yellow journalism, 
 and hold up their skirts and tiptoe as you do 
 around nastiness. Now, Johnny, let me talk 
 business; let me tell you how to do some real 
 church work: instead of preaching against 
 Sabbath-breaking and Sunday papers and the- 
 atres and such little things as that, you take 
 your congregation down here some Sunday 
 morning. That would be a sermon." 
 
 Gait did not answer. He was thinking 
 much the same thought. They were in the 
 main street now and nearing the St. Cloud. 
 
 "Can you take us down there again this 
 afternoon, Mr. Paine?" Miss Thost leaned
 
 138 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 forward as the car was stopping and said the 
 words in low tone in Dick's ear. He wheeled 
 about in surprise. 
 
 "Why, haven't you seen enough ?" he asked. 
 
 "I want to take some things down to that 
 poor family," she said, simply. 
 
 "Oh, I see. By George, it's too bad, Miss 
 Thost, but I can't. You see I have got to 
 leave town at two, and there is no dodging it. 
 Case where I'm counsel, you know. I'll go 
 to-morrow afternoon, though ; I'll be dead glad 
 to go with you." 
 
 "But I must go back immediately." 
 
 "I'll go with you, Miss Thost," the pastor 
 volunteered, quietly. "I can get a horse and 
 
 "No, you don't, Johnny; you'll take my car, 
 that's just what you'll do. You name the hour 
 and I'll send the chauffeur right down." 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Paine," she said, her face 
 breaking into one of her rare smiles. "We 
 shall be glad to take it. You may call at 
 three." 
 
 "Wish I could go myself, by George, but 
 business is business. The car'll be here at just 
 three o'clock," and he was gone. 
 
 The car came indeed before three o'clock. 
 The chauffeur had called first for Miss Thost,
 
 SOULS INSURGENT 139 
 
 who was waiting for him already with suit- 
 cases and bundles, and then had taken in Gait 
 at the St. Cloud. 
 
 "Miss Paine has a headache," she announced, 
 as he climbed in beside her. "She overdid this 
 morning, and must have a rest." 
 
 "Oh, we can take care of this case," he 
 laughed, in unusually high spirits. "But what 
 heaps of bundles! You have certainly been 
 busy." 
 
 "It's children's clothing, mostly. I simply 
 ordered them at a department store. I don't 
 dare to think though how they'll fit." 
 
 "And I have brought blankets," he cried. 
 "We'll keep 'em warm anyway." 
 
 "Yes, and if the man will only come home 
 sober while we are there so that we can talk 
 to him, everything will be perfect." She looked 
 over at him and smiled in anticipation. 
 
 The chauffeur turned to the right through 
 the residence section where lived most of the 
 pastor's parishioners. Several of them passed 
 by on the walks, but he did not see them; he 
 was discussing eagerly the pitiful little family 
 and the things they could best do in the short 
 time they had at their disposal. 
 
 There was a fire when they arrived, and the 
 babies were crowing in glee. They had eaten
 
 140 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 their fill and it was warm. The two set to 
 work instantly. The half-grown boy was put 
 to washing the floor while the pastor put things 
 to rights and cleaned out the rubbish from the 
 corners and under the bed. Miss Thost began 
 at once upon the children, whom she washed 
 and dressed in the coarse, warm clothes which 
 she had provided. It was no easy task. The 
 mother could do nothing save lie and look with 
 amazement and consternation at the vast trans- 
 formation that was going on before her eyes. 
 It was to her almost as if supernatural crea- 
 tures had swooped down and taken possession 
 of the place. She was too dazed to thank them 
 or even to indicate that she heard Miss Thost's 
 emphatic message that was to be delivered to 
 the husband, and her announcement that they 
 would come again the next day to have a talk 
 with him. 
 
 As they sped homeward through the gather- 
 ing dusk, Gait felt strangely elated. This was 
 work after his own heart. What a joy it would 
 be to go every day to such homes of suffering 
 and sin, to teach them how to live, to help them 
 to higher conceptions of the moral life, and then 
 to bring them finally the vision of the Christ 
 and the Love that makes all things new ! What 
 a work it would be! And somehow the pres-
 
 SOULS INSURGENT 141 
 
 ence of the woman beside him added to his 
 feeling of exultation. How many in his church 
 would have done this thing ? How many would 
 have dared? 
 
 He found himself studying her intently. 
 There was about her an unconscious air of dis- 
 tinction, the air of one who has come as an 
 exotic from another and higher circle of human 
 life. Somehow he felt always commonplace 
 and narrow in her presence. He could not ex- 
 plain it or define it, but he could feel it, and it 
 spurred him to higher endeavor and to loftier 
 conceptions. Here was strength of soul and 
 fearlessness and originality, and it exhilarated 
 him in spite of himself. She was the first 
 woman of the larger mold that he had ever met. 
 How he could work with a church made up of 
 members like her! Heretofore he had known 
 only the church type of woman, watchful of 
 the conventionalities, satisfied with the surface 
 of things, voluble as to the commonplaces of 
 life, and knowing of religion only the vocabu- 
 lary and the traditional forms; but here was a 
 woman who in intellect and experience of life 
 and fearlessness and spiritually was his supe- 
 rior he felt it and he knew it. And she was 
 a Theosophist a preacher of fantastic notions, 
 a setter forth of strange gods !
 
 142 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "And does your Theosophy teach you to go 
 down into the filth of the slums, Miss Thost?" 
 Before he realized it, his thoughts had voiced 
 themselves. 
 
 "And why should it not, Mr. Gait ?" Again 
 she looked up at him with childlike wonder. 
 
 "I never heard of a Theosophist's doing it 
 before," he parried. 
 
 "And how many have you known?" she 
 asked, softly. 
 
 "Not many really, to be honest, Miss Thost, 
 you are the first I ever knew." 
 
 Her smile confused him still more. 
 
 "I have told you, Mr. Gait," she said, look- 
 - ing over at him as if he were a dull pupil who 
 needed all her patience, "that we base our 
 belief on the fact that all men are brothers. 
 If everyone is my brother, how could I help 
 doing what I have done?" 
 
 "But I had supposed that Theosophy was a 
 mere abstract theory. I certainly never have 
 looked upon it as a system to be practised 
 actively in the form of real charity and real 
 missionary work. This phase of it never gets 
 into print, I'm sure of that." 
 
 "So you have read our literature?" 
 
 "No, I haven't, but" 
 
 "Come over and hear me lecture some day,
 
 SOULS INSURGENT 143 
 
 Mr. Gait," she burst out impulsively. "Come 
 and learn what we really are. Can't you come 
 Tuesday afternoon ?" He looked over into her 
 eager face and hesitated. 
 
 "Will you come Sunday and hear me?" he 
 parried. 
 
 "Why, I intended to come, anyway. I 
 always attend church." 
 
 "Then, I suppose it is only fair that I should 
 come and hear you," he wavered, influenced in 
 spite of himself by the wistfulness in her eyes. 
 
 "I hope you can, Mr. Gait. I should really 
 like to have you know just what we are. I 
 don't think it will shock you too much." She 
 smiled up at him in a way that somehow sent 
 all his objections flying. "I meet my class at 
 four o'clock, and I shall expect you." 
 
 "And I shall come," he answered, with more 
 of positiveriess in his tone than he really 
 intended. 
 
 "I knew you would," she said, and he turned 
 quickly to look into her face. What did she 
 mean by that? 
 
 That evening, though it was late in the week 
 and his Sunday plans were well-nigh complete, 
 Gait changed his text, ( and began his sermon 
 entirely anew. Far into the night he worked 
 upon it and all day Saturday.
 
 144 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "Neither is there salvation in any other : for there is 
 none other name under heaven given among men, 
 whereby we must be saved." 
 
 He had but one audience in view, this woman 
 who had so strangely entered his life. He 
 wrote it solely for her; she was in his eye as 
 he penned every word of it ; and he found him- 
 self going over the most convincing parts as if 
 he were arguing with her personally. On Sun- 
 day morning, when he saw her well toward 
 the front of the church in the pastor's own pew, 
 a strange feeling of trepidation took possession 
 of him. He began weakly, tremendously con- 
 scious of her presence, but as he got into the 
 heart of his message he forgot her and launched 
 out with his whole soul, preaching Jesus. 
 
 It was only after the benediction that he 
 thought again of Helda Thost. He glanced 
 quickly to the pew where she had been sitting, 
 but she was gone. He turned to find Mrs. 
 Bailey at his elbow. 
 
 "That was beautiful, Mr. Gait," she was say- 
 ing effusively. "It was just beautiful. You 
 outdid yourself, really" as if a sermon was a 
 mere performance to be praised for its beauty 
 like a violin solo. 
 
 "It is kind of you to say so," he answered, 
 automatically.
 
 SOULS INSURGENT 145 
 
 "I have come to invite you to take lunch with 
 us," she went on, sweetly. "We really want 
 you to. Mr. Bailey is waiting for us at the 
 door." 
 
 "I shall be pleased to come of course. It's 
 very kind." He glanced again out over the 
 retiring congregation. How had the sermon 
 impressed Helda Thost? If he could only see 
 her now and argue the matter with her! He 
 was in the mood now to do his very best. 
 "Neither is there salvation in any other" 
 what could she say to that? "There is none 
 other name under heaven" how would Theos- 
 ophy square with that? He would discuss it 
 with her when he saw her to-morrow. 
 
 "You were really inspired, Mr. Gait," he 
 heard the woman say, as they walked together 
 down the street amid the homing worshippers. 
 "I never heard you drive home the Truth so 
 powerfully. And it seems almost providential 
 that you took that subject. Of course you did 
 not see that plain, little woman whom they put 
 into the pastor's pew. She is the notorious 
 Helda Thost, who has been talked about so 
 much, the one who is going about doing so 
 much harm with her classes in Theosophy. 
 You couldn't have hit it better if you had 
 known. She was tremendously impressed. I
 
 146 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 watched her. She never took her eyes off you 
 a moment during the sermon. It will do her 
 good/' 
 
 The pastor had an impulse to tell her that 
 the sermon had been prepared and preached 
 solely for this woman, but for some reason 
 he did not. Then his conscience began to 
 awake. 
 
 "She's a dangerous woman, Mr. Gait. I 
 know of several who heard her last winter in 
 Boston and they say she exerts a peculiar fas- 
 cination over young women. She draws them 
 from all the churches and completely dazzles 
 them: Some of the best women in the churches 
 there, they say, went over to her and they have 
 never come back. We have got to guard 
 against her. She was there to-day only to 
 advertise herself. Really, Mr. Gait, I wish 
 you would speak against her some evening at 
 prayer-meeting. They say Effie Means has 
 joined the class already." 
 
 "You say she was very attentive?" he said, 
 absently. 
 
 "Of course. She comes to get arguments to 
 use against the church. That's her business. 
 She tells her girls that, so if she goes to church 
 they can't object to coming to hear her. Really, 
 Mr. Gait, you have no idea what a power for
 
 SOULS INSURGENT 147 
 
 evil she is. We must work against her this 
 winter in every way that we possibly can." 
 
 Gait made no reply. His conscience, always 
 sensitive, was awake now. He felt that he was 
 playing a double part, and yet he felt that he 
 had done no wrong. Why should he tell Mrs. 
 Bailey what had taken place during the week? 
 She would not understand him. It would do 
 no good. He was silent and abstracted during 
 all the lunch hour, a fact that she attributed to 
 reaction after his sermon, and he was moody 
 and troubled later in the afternoon when he 
 came home to his room. 
 
 Was it right for him to go to this lecture 
 as he had promised ? Some of his church mem- 
 bers would >e there. What would they say 
 when they saw their pastor in the class ? Mrs. 
 Bailey, he well knew, had voiced the sentiment 
 of the more influential of the church. He was 
 expected openly to denounce this woman and 
 all her works, and here he was planning to 
 encourage her work by his presence. Would 
 it not create scandal and harm the church? 
 And yet, on the other hand, why should he 
 yield to their shallow prejudices? Was it his 
 conscience that was condemning him or was it 
 his fear of what people would say? Was he 
 not in the right, as God saw the right? He
 
 148 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 had given her his promise, and she would de- 
 spise him if he broke it simply because he was 
 afraid of the babbling voices of women. Was 
 he not strong man enough to follow his own 
 ideas of right and to let people talk ? 
 
 Thus he argued and fretted and struggled 
 with his conscience, but always when he had 
 the matter fully settled some word of hers or 
 some look would flash upon him and he would 
 have to settle the matter again. 
 
 That evening the affair took another phase, 
 but Gait did not know it. Someone who had 
 seen him in the automobile with Miss Thost 
 whispered of it to Mrs. Bailey.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE SPELL OF THE EAST 
 
 AT three-thirty on Tuesday afternoon, Dick 
 Paine burst into the pastor's room and 
 found him curled over his desk with open books 
 face down all about him. 
 
 "Come on, Johnny, we can't make it unless 
 we hustle," he cried. "It's three-thirty. Come 
 on." 
 
 "Where are you going 1 , Dick?" 
 
 "Why, down on Summer Street; don't you 
 know? They said you were going, so I came 
 along. But we have got to hurry." 
 
 "Sit down, Dick, I want to talk to you." 
 
 "But we haven't any time. We can't get 
 there now unless we run." He pulled out his 
 watch as if it were a train that was to be 
 caught. 
 
 "I'm not going, Dick." 
 
 "Going! Why, man, of course you are 
 going. Didn't you tell them that you would 
 go? Didn't you promise?" 
 
 149
 
 150 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "A bad promise is better broken." He 
 turned a troubled face up at Dick. 
 
 "Oh, pshaw, Johnny! You make me sick. 
 Be a man, for God's sake, and stand on your 
 own feet. What's going to hurt you down 
 there? Are you so hidebound that you refuse 
 to hear the other side at all? Have some red 
 blood in you. I've ordered the car to be there 
 at five o'clock, and we'll all spin down Harley 
 way. It's just what you need, you old sermon- 
 grinder." 
 
 "But, Dick, you don't get the point of view. 
 I'm the pastor of a Christian church. This 
 may not hurt me, but, remember, 'if meat make 
 my brother to offend ' ' 
 
 "Oh, chuck it, Johnny! In other words, you 
 don't dare to say your soul's your own before 
 that bunch of old maids of yours. You can't 
 for one minute do what you know to be right; 
 you have got to do what they think is right. 
 You have got to be cramped right down into 
 their narrow little prejudices. Cut it, old man. 
 It will shrivel you up like a dried jellyfish. 
 You'll be only a smirking little 'yes, yes* man, 
 with your eyes all the time on the women to 
 see how they take it. For God's sake, Johnny, 
 be a man among men. It's the duty of a pastor 
 to lead his people and not be driven by 'em.
 
 THE SPELL OF THE EAST 151 
 
 Stand on your own feet and let 'em talk. This 
 isn't going to hurt you and you know it, and 
 it isn't going to hurt anybody else. It's going 
 to broaden you and make more of a man of 
 you to hear the other side. Pshaw ! come on." 
 He grasped the pastor's arm boyishly and 
 pulled him to his feet. 
 
 "But, Dick" 
 
 "Here it comes, Johnny. Gee, we've got to 
 hustle. Come on. That's our car on the cor- 
 ner. It waits there just one minute. Come on. 
 We can catch it." 
 
 Gait wavered a single instant, and then, led 
 by an impulse, he took his hat and coat and 
 hastened after Dick. They left the car at the 
 foot of Summer Street. The pastor had hardly 
 spoken all the way down. He seemed ab- 
 stracted and far away. Dick looked at him 
 curiously. 
 
 "Now, look here, Johnny, brace up," he cried 
 suddenly, slapping him on the back. "What 
 are you looking like that for? We're not on 
 our way to commit a crime ; we aren't going to 
 steal sheep or rob a henroost. Why, your face 
 looks like an indictment for murder, and has, 
 all the way down. Come on, Johnny, jolly up 
 and be something like a real man. But, pshaw ! 
 what's the use arguing with a parson? Re-
 
 152 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 ligion is a disease, and you can't argue with 
 a disease." 
 
 Gait did not answer. He was hearing very 
 little of Dick's harangue. 
 
 "Yes, sir, that is just what it is; it's a dis- 
 ease. You can't explain it on any other basis. 
 Take your Dowieites and Eddyacs and the like 
 the crowds that follow them are not what 
 you would just call fools, not by a long shot. 
 They have simply been infected with a disease, 
 that's all, and it explains all the phenomena. 
 The thing becomes epidemic at times and 
 spreads like measles. Women are most sus- 
 ceptible and it goes hardest with 'em. It's up 
 to somebody to isolate the bacillus and discover 
 a serum. The world's red hot for him. Now 
 take this case here, for example. The woman's 
 got a class of ten already, so Freddie tells me, 
 and it's the pick of the city. She'll have thirty 
 in a month. They hang over her as if she had 
 just lit, and they drink in every word with their 
 mouths open two feet." 
 
 "But will they hold out? Isn't it just curi- 
 osity?" 
 
 "Why, of course they'll hold out. It's a dis- 
 ease, I tell you, and it's incurable. It changes 
 its form every little while just like any other 
 variety of neuritis, but it clings like St. Vitus'
 
 THE SPELL OF THE EAST 153 
 
 dance. Surgery can't touch it or drugs, and 
 it is the most contagious disease known to med- 
 icine. A case ought to be quarantined for five 
 years. But, look here, how's this, Johnny? 
 Didn't they say four o'clock? They are going 
 away and by George! it's only five minutes 
 past." 
 
 "Yes, she said four." 
 
 Gait looked at the group with some curiosity. 
 It was indeed noteworthy. There were ten, at 
 least, alert, confident-looking women wives 
 and daughters and mothers in prominent fam- 
 ilies. One of them bowed to him as they 
 passed, a member of his church. At the door 
 he looked back at her and found that she had 
 looked back at him at the same moment. For 
 some reason the blood leaped to his face. He 
 went into the hallway almost guiltily and fol- 
 lowed Dick up a stairway and along a wide 
 corridor. Before an inner door they paused 
 and knocked. 
 
 "Freddie said the third to the right. This 
 must be it." But there was no response. 
 After a moment he knocked again. "This is 
 the third, isn't it?" he asked, stepping back to 
 count again, but at that moment the door 
 opened noiselessly, and there appeared almost 
 with the suddenness of an apparition a woman
 
 154 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 in white, her face veiled so that only the eyes 
 were visible. 
 
 Without a word it beckoned to them and 
 turned noiselessly. The door closed behind 
 them and they found themselves in a narrow 
 passage dimly lighted from a single window 
 at the end. Then pushing aside heavy hang- 
 ings they found themselves in a room whose 
 outlines at first were vague and indistinct. 
 
 "Wait here." The figure turned and van- 
 ished. 
 
 "Kind o' spooky like, Johnny, eh? Fairy 
 godmother, I suppose. But, say! They un- 
 derstand the stage setting, all right. This is 
 Bagdad." 
 
 They peered about them curiously. The 
 light, dim and uncertain, came from a half- 
 smothered window somewhere at the side. 
 There were no chairs, only divans and otto- 
 mans. All outlines of the room seemed lost 
 in draperies and soft hangings. Everywhere 
 was the atmosphere of strangeness. The 
 lacquered boxes, the brilliant rugs, the dra- 
 peries everything breathed of the Orient. In 
 a moment they had left behind them far, im- 
 measurably far away, all the rush and roar 
 of the great West and were in the soul of the 
 mysterious East, where time is not and where
 
 THE SPELL OF THE EAST 155 
 
 mystery hangs over all things like the breath- 
 ings of incense. 
 
 "And they did all this in one week!" mar- 
 velled Dick, looking about him in real admira- 
 tion. 
 
 "Oh, it was all ready to set up at a minute's 
 notice, like a magician's outfit," began the pas- 
 tor, but he lapsed quickly into silence. Miss 
 Thost had come in through the noiseless cur- 
 tains. 
 
 "I am sorry I could not get you word," she 
 said, simply. "I had to change the hour at the 
 last moment. Do be seated, please." She mo- 
 tioned them to be seated and then sank down 
 wearily upon an ottoman by the door. 
 
 "Oh, that's all right," Dick burst out, gal- 
 lantly. "We can come some other time. This 
 room's enough for one day." 
 
 "I talked to them on the women of the East," 
 she said, speaking in low tone, as if reminis- 
 cently to herself. "And I touched on the soul 
 of the East and the spell of the East." Gait 
 found himself leaning forward and straining 
 to catch every word. "But if there had been 
 no change, I should have talked differently. I 
 had thought to explain our conception of hu- 
 man life, and the view of man as the East 
 conceives it the tolerant, gentle, thinking
 
 156 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 East, the product of the millions of millions 
 of thinking souls in the long lapsing of the 
 years." 
 
 She paused and there was silence. 
 
 "And the woman we saw?" Dick asked, after 
 a moment. It was the present environment 
 and not the thousands of years that interested 
 Dick. 
 
 "Miss Frieda illustrates costumes and man- 
 ners. She does it beautifully." 
 
 "Good make-up," Dick commented, and for a 
 time there was silence. She sat perfectly still, 
 looking with far eyes out into the dimness. It 
 was as if she had forgotten them. 
 
 "It is beautiful," she began, suddenly, turn- 
 ing to them a face lighted up with the enthusi- 
 asm that had undoubtedly been upon it during 
 her lecture of the afternoon. "It clutches you ; 
 it grips your imagination; it bears you out of 
 yourself. The spell of the East ah, its infinite 
 past, its wisdom, its mystery, its passion, its 
 dreams, its wise men all of the wise men of 
 the world have come out of the East. They 
 have all of them seen the star, and they have 
 all rejoiced." 
 
 Gait felt strangely awed. It was as if the 
 woman was inspired like one of the ancient 
 pythonesses, and, rapt with her message, was
 
 THE SPELL OF THE EAST 157 
 
 pouring it out, scarce knowing what she did. 
 He held his breath to catch every accent. 
 
 "Have you been in the East?" he asked at 
 length, softly. 
 
 "Yes," she said. "I have been in India. 
 India," she repeated, as if unconsciously. 
 
 "India," he found himself murmuring to 
 himself. "India." What an ocean of a word ! 
 "India!" 
 
 "You will come again, Mr. Gait?" She 
 raised her eyes appealingly to his. "You'll 
 come again on Thursday?" 
 
 "I'm afraid not, Miss Thost. Really" 
 
 "Yes, he'll come." There was finality in 
 Dick's tone. "I'll see to that. He'll be here." 
 
 The pastor turned, he knew not why, and 
 found himself looking into the eyes of Miss 
 Thost. A moment, and they both laughed. 
 It was seldom that she laughed. She smiled 
 often, but he had heard her laugh only at Dick. 
 
 "Why, there is nothing to laugh at. He 
 ought to come, and it's my duty to make him. 
 I have started in to educate him." 
 
 Again they laughed. There was always 
 about Dick a child-like air of perfect plausibility 
 and innocence that made it hard to tell whether 
 he was earnest or not. Many who knew him 
 best declared that the more infant-like he
 
 158 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 seemed in his innocence, the greater was the 
 probability that he did not mean a word that 
 he said. 
 
 "You mustn't take him seriously," the pastor 
 laughed. 
 
 "But I am serious," he exploded petulantly. 
 "When you see a man turning into a fossil 
 right before your eyes, don't you try to save 
 him?" 
 
 "Oh, I'm hopeless, perfectly hopeless. But, 
 Dick, we must be going now." He arose and 
 bowed in a self-conscious way to Miss Thost. 
 "It was good of you to invite us," he said, the 
 conventional words rising to his lips by sheer 
 force of habit. 
 
 "But you must stay for some tea." 
 
 "No." 
 
 "We shall be delighted, Miss Thost." Dick 
 bowed in courtly acceptance and resumed his 
 seat ; after a wavering moment, Gait also sank 
 back upon the divan. The woman disappeared 
 among the hangings. 
 
 "Say, this is the real thing, isn't it, Johnny?" 
 Dick chuckled. "There isn't a false note in 
 the whole show. You're right in the heart of 
 Bagdad." He looked about him admiringly. 
 
 Now that their eyes had become accustomed 
 to the dim light, they could make out more
 
 THE SPELL OF THE EAST 159 
 
 clearly the details of the room. The furnish- 
 ings rugs, hangings, drapery, divans all 
 were of Oriental make. There was curious 
 bric-a-brac everywhere filigreed chests, 
 weapons, musical instruments, idols, pictures, 
 red-lacquered furniture, fabrics, and quaint 
 ottomans. It seemed to Gait now as if there 
 were a faint haze in the room, and, as he 
 thought of it, he realized for the first time that 
 there was a trace of perfume, a breath as of 
 burnt incense, a subtle odoV that had been in 
 his consciousness ever since he had entered, and 
 that had just defined itself. 
 
 A moment and the woman returned with a 
 lacquered box in her hands. Frieda Paine was 
 behind her with a tea urn of beaten brass which 
 she deposited on the floor in the centre of the 
 room. Then the two, sitting in Oriental 
 fashion, lighted an alcohol lamp under the urn, 
 which was now seen to contain steaming water, 
 and then busied themselves with another box 
 from which they took tiny cups and saucers 
 and spoons. Neither of them spoke, and for 
 a moment the spell which seemed to be upon the 
 room was unbroken even by Dick. But it was 
 only for a moment. 
 
 "What did you take it off for, Freddie ?" he 
 began, jovially. "We want to see it."
 
 160 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "Oh, don't, Dick," she protested in a low 
 tone. 
 
 "Why not?" he demanded. "Don't what?" 
 
 She did not answer. It was as if the serving 
 of the tea was a sacred rite. After a silence 
 he began on another tack. 
 
 "That's a fine hubble-bubble pipe you've got 
 over there," he announced. "Has it ever been 
 smoked? I'd like to try at it." 
 
 "Oh, Dick." 
 
 "I'll bet it takes a horse-power draught, 
 though. Say, Miss Thost, do you care if I 
 light it up some day?" 
 
 "No, indeed," she said, simply. 
 
 "I'll try it the very next time. You remem- 
 ber those touching lines of Browning, Freddie : 
 
 " 'By hookah by crook, 
 A man must smoke.' " 
 
 "That's not Browning," she said solemnly. 
 "That's in the 'Upanishads.' " 
 
 Somehow the pastor was watching closely 
 the little figure so busy with the tea. There 
 was what Dick had called "an air about her" 
 and there was mystery. Amid her surround- 
 ings she seemed like a sibyl performing strange 
 rites. Dick, he noticed, was again unusually 
 brilliant and vivacious.
 
 THE SPELL OF THE EAST 161 
 
 "The tea," she announced at length, as if the 
 words were a part of a ritual, "is from India. 
 It is a sacred essence drunk, the East believes, 
 only by souls who are fit. Besides this, there 
 is none outside of India." She arose as one 
 who performs a religious rite, and handed the 
 pastor a tiny cup which steamed with an aroma 
 as of rare incense. 
 
 "I am not worthy," he said, gallantly. 
 
 "Yes, you are worthy." She looked at him 
 and smiled. 
 
 "Almost you persuade me to be a Hindoo." 
 Dick sipped at his cup ecstatically. 
 
 "It's a part of that mysterious East of which 
 we know so little," Frieda Paine began, in an 
 inspired way. "Really, all our wisdom and all 
 religion came first of all from the East. Is 
 that not true, Miss Helda?" 
 
 "Not all religion, Miss Frieda." 
 
 "Well, then, all the great religions. Chris- 
 tianity came from the East. I remember you 
 said that. Christianity came from India." 
 
 "Indeed not Christianity," Gait broke in with 
 decision. "On that point we can be absolutely 
 certain. Christianity originated with Jesus in 
 the province of Judea early in the first century. 
 That's historical ground." 
 
 "Christianity is merely an old religion in a
 
 162 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 new form." Miss Thost's tone was that of the 
 teacher who corrects her pupil with infinite 
 patience. "Christ, as you know, received His 
 training in the Essene monastery under Mount 
 Serbal, and later in Egypt. He knew all of 
 the Eastern mysteries. He taught very little 
 that is not contained in the old trans-Hima- 
 layan scriptures." 
 
 "That is folk-lore, mere myth," the pastor 
 broke out, testily. 
 
 "Have you ever compared the similarities 
 and the differences, Mr. Gait?" she asked, 
 sweetly. "Have you read these scriptures?" 
 
 "No; because they are not scriptures in the 
 sense that ours are scriptures. They are mere 
 writings, and the Bible was given by inspira- 
 tion." 
 
 "All scriptures have been given by inspira- 
 tion, Mr. Gait," she answered serenely. "The 
 higher truths in all ages have come not from 
 man, but from God through man. Does it not 
 savor of narrowness to condemn all truth that 
 has not come in one's own preconceived way?" 
 
 "But you degrade Christ to the level of an 
 eastern mystic. You deny His divinity." 
 
 "No, no, Mr. Gait," she said, very gently. 
 "You wrong us. We insist on His divinity." 
 
 "All men are divine," Frieda Paine broke in,
 
 THE SPELL OF THE EAST 163 
 
 with eagerness. "We are broader than Chris- 
 tianity. Our primary object is 'a universal 
 brotherhood of humanity without distinction of 
 race, sex, caste, color, or creed.' Surely you 
 can accept that. We bind you in no other 
 way." 
 
 "Careful, Johnny, careful there. Watch out. 
 The hook's in plain sight. It isn't even cov- 
 ered." 
 
 "But, you ask me to surrender my " 
 
 "Why, Mr. Gait." There was wonder in 
 the large eyes. "We are not asking you to do 
 anything or to accept anything. We are merely 
 explaining our standpoint, so you will under- 
 stand us. You want to know the Truth, don't 
 you?" 
 
 "Why, yes." 
 
 "You don't have to surrender your creed or 
 to accept a creed." The fire of battle was in 
 Frieda Paine's eyes. "It says 'without distinc- 
 tion of creed.' We mean that we make no 
 inquiries as to a man's creed before we acknowl- 
 edge him as our brother. Isn't Christianity 
 based on the idea of brotherhood?" 
 
 "Hands off there, Freddie. Two to one 
 isn't sportsmanlike. If we're going to have a 
 debate, it's going to be under regular rules, 
 with judges and timekeeper. Or we can make
 
 164 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 it a preaching-match, Johnny. That's the 
 thing. I'll be judge. Choose texts, one, two, 
 three." 
 
 "Please don't, Dick." 
 
 "Now, why not, I want to know? Isn't it 
 common sense to do things right and according 
 to rule? And wouldn't a preaching-match be 
 a sportsmanlike affair ? As Browning so beau- 
 tifully says : 
 
 'Preaching's the only athletic sport to-day 
 
 Where woman competes with man unhandicapped.' " 
 
 "Dick, I'll give you anything you ask if you 
 will never say Browning to me again." 
 
 "Why, I thought that was what you wanted. 
 I thought this whole thing was based on Brown- 
 ing esoteric Browning 'Browning involved 
 to the th power/ as Mrs. Besant says." 
 
 "You are making fun of us, Dick." 
 
 "On the contrary, I was just thinking of 
 joining you. How much Browning does it 
 take to signify first intention? and how many 
 chapters of 'Science and Health' ?" 
 
 "It doesn't take any," she answered testily. 
 "But, Mr. Gait, you ought to read some of our 
 books. Now, here's a beautiful translation of 
 the 'Upanishads.' We shall be glad to have 
 you take it. It is beautiful."
 
 THE SPELL OF THE EAST 165 
 
 "What's it about, Freddie?" Dick inquired 
 anxiously. 
 
 "Why, the old religion of India the what 
 really are the 'Upanishads/ Miss Helda?" 
 
 "They are the third division of the 'Vedas' 
 the revealed word. They are the earliest 
 attempts of the Hindoo mind to solve the mys- 
 tery of the Supreme Being and the problem of 
 human life. Some of them are perhaps a thou- 
 sand years older than Solomon." 
 
 "And Theosophy is based on them?" Gait 
 asked. 
 
 "Why, indeed not, Mr. Gait, no more than 
 upon the New Testament or the writings of 
 Confucius. You don't understand us. We 
 only seek the Truth wherever it may be found. 
 Theosophy is simply that, and to serve one's 
 fellow men that's the soul of it. If you are 
 truly doing that, then you are a Theosophist, 
 whether you realize it or not." 
 
 "We seek only the spiritual," Frieda Paine 
 joined in, eagerly. "We oppose materialism. 
 We believe that 'there's a life that touches to 
 the quick that the world knows not' that's not 
 the exact quotation. It was from Edwin 
 Arnold, wasn't it? You gave it to us yester- 
 day, Miss Helda." 
 
 "I quoted the poet Yeats :
 
 1 66 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 'There is a life that breathes not, 
 Powers that be 
 
 That touch each other to the quick, in modes 
 Which the dull world no sense hath to perceive, 
 No soul to dream of.' " 
 
 Gait said nothing. No woman before had 
 ever had such power to move him. The lines 
 sank into his brain as if engraved with iron. 
 He would use them in his next sermon. As she 
 uttered them they seemed to sound the depths 
 of human life. He sat in silence and looked 
 at her. 
 
 ''Oh, Miss Helda!" Miss Paine turned to 
 the woman with sparkling eyes. "Won't you 
 play again that air you gave us to-day in your 
 lecture, the old Indian chant?" 
 
 Miss Thost said nothing, but arose and took 
 from the wall an unusual stringed instrument, 
 over which she swept her fingers in soft chords. 
 
 "You must remember," Miss Paine an- 
 nounced, in a hushed voice, "that this is an old 
 religious melody, so old that it is even older 
 than the 'Upanishads.' It's primitive Indian 
 
 music." 
 
 Gait watched the woman in almost breathless 
 interest as she tuned her instrument and settled 
 herself to play. She began softly with a trem- 
 ulous movement against a background of half-
 
 THE SPELL OF THE EAST 167 
 
 heard beatings. As she went on, the volume 
 increased. There was no distinguishable air. 
 The pitch became higher; the monotonous roll 
 of the background became more and more dom- 
 inant; and the effect of it was to create some- 
 thing like a growing excitement over one knew 
 not what. Gait felt himself exhilarated. 
 There came to him, out of the shrilling and the 
 fluttering and the tom-tom rolling, a sense of 
 lightness, a desire to rise up and up and up 
 where he might soar and know. Then the 
 movement changed into a minor strain. The 
 shrilling became like shrieks ; the tom-tom roll 
 seemed like heart-beats when one is filled with 
 fear. A horror came over him. It was as if 
 invisible wings were brushing him, and unseen 
 presences were hovering so near that he could 
 hardly breathe. The music suddenly ceased. 
 He turned to find Frieda Paine, her eyes shin- 
 ing with excitement, looking at him, search- 
 ingly. He turned away in a sort of confusion, 
 he knew not why. 
 
 "How did you like it?" she asked, intensely. 
 
 "Why, it does not seem like music at all, yet 
 it has a certain power to move one." 
 
 "It was like the overture in a Chinese 
 theatre," pronounced Dick, positively. "You 
 ought to learn a chop-stick, rice-bowl accom-
 
 :68 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 paniment, really, Freddie, and make it more 
 realistic." 
 
 "It is music," Miss Paine went on, tensely, 
 ignoring Dick. "The highest kind of music, 
 and it's the oldest music in the world." 
 
 "By George, I believe it; it certainly sounds 
 that way. I'll bet Eve used to play that piece 
 to Adam." 
 
 "Won't you sing to us, Miss Helda?" Miss 
 Paine looked over at her entreatingly. "Sing 
 the little piece you gave us yesterday." 
 
 "Yes, sing to us, Miss Thost," Gait added, 
 quickly. "We have never heard you sing." 
 
 "Don't you know 'Jerusalem' or 'The Merry 
 Widow,' or something like that? That's the 
 music that gets hold of anybody." 
 
 "Don't mind him, Miss Helda." 
 
 "I think you will like this," she said, and 
 without preliminaries she began a low chant, 
 with the same monotonous accompaniment that 
 had characterized the first piece. The words 
 were in a strange tongue, but there was no mis- 
 taking their import. It was the plaint of one 
 groping in the dark, the earnest yearning of a 
 soul that seeks the truth and the light. When 
 the last note had died away, Gait sighed as if 
 he had been holding his breath. 
 
 "What was that ?" he whispered, intensely.
 
 THE SPELL OF THE EAST 169 
 
 "It was a chant sung in the old Himalayan 
 temples, a prayer of the soul to the All-soul." 
 
 "Oh." 
 
 "It's time to go." Dick had arisen with his 
 watch in his hand. "Get your wraps now. 
 The car has been here just twenty minutes. 
 We are all going out Harley way and get some 
 of the good air. Come on." 
 
 "I'm sorry about the lecture, Mr. Gait," Miss 
 Thost said as they were passing through the 
 long hall. Her voice was very low and her 
 eyes, as she looked up at him, were childlike in 
 their earnestness. "But you will come again, 
 Thursday?" 
 
 The pastor looked down into her face a mo- 
 ment, and then answered, slowly: 
 
 "Yes, I will come."
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE DAUGHTERS OF NECESSITY 
 
 IT was late in the evening when Gait found 
 himself again in his room. Dick had taken 
 them far out beyond Harley to surprise them 
 with a little inn of his discovery, and after din- 
 ner he had swung them on a long detour 
 through the suburbs. And the pastor had en- 
 joyed every moment of it as heartily even as 
 Dick. The brisk air and the rapid motion had 
 invigorated him and had filled him with unusual 
 spirits. It was good for one, he had declared, 
 to get once in a while completely away from 
 one's work and to view life from a totally new 
 angle. 
 
 Now, in his room, as he dropped into his 
 chair and looked about on the open books and 
 the scraps of notes and the manuscript, it 
 seemed for the moment as if he were viewing 
 the work of another man. How far away the 
 struggle and the bitterness and the doubt of 
 the early afternoon, and how needless. His 
 
 veins still thrilled with the brisk air. He had 
 
 170
 
 DAUGHTERS OF NECESSITY 171 
 
 been morbid and over-conscientious. The ex- 
 perience of the afternoon was just what he had 
 needed to broaden him and bring him to his 
 senses. 
 
 His eye was caught by the little clock on his 
 desk, and his heart gave a sudden bound. He 
 had an engagement for the evening he had 
 two engagements, and he had broken both of 
 them. He had told Mother Brown that he 
 would call at half-past five and have a talk with 
 her about Miss Carniston, and he had promised 
 to meet his missionary committee at Mrs. 
 Bailey's at seven. He started to his feet, but 
 he sat down again. It was too late even to 
 go down to the Mission. The house would be 
 closed for the night. He must wait until morn- 
 ing. 
 
 For a long time he sat in his study chair 
 rocking with monotonous swing. It was not 
 Mrs. Bailey that was troubling him now; it 
 was Isobel Carniston. She had been perplex- 
 ing him more and more of late. At first he 
 had understood the case completely. He had 
 analyzed it like a problem and had solved it 
 in all its complexities. He was a young man 
 and therefore able to read the human heart; 
 and he was unmarried and alone, and thus 
 especially equipped to know the recesses of the
 
 172 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 feminine soul. The case had been perfectly 
 clear : the girl was a worldling, drunk with life, 
 thoughtless, impulsive, headstrong a type well 
 known and all too common. He had prophe- 
 sied the steps of her awakening as the mathe- 
 matician plots the path of the moving point. 
 Was she not a woman and therefore to be solved 
 like a problem in algebra? 
 
 There could be but one outcome. She would 
 lapse into bitter regret, of course; she would 
 grow into wistfulness and unutterable longing; 
 and if nature took its perfect way, she would 
 end at last in complete despair. But before 
 this there would come his chance. He would 
 take her at the perfect moment, and touch her 
 and thrill her with the Christ vision. She 
 would sit weakly in her invalid chair amid the 
 pillows, pale, wistful-eyed, ever close to tears, 
 and she would say to the dear old soul who for 
 days had given herself like a mother, "I'm not 
 worth it. Just let me die and be done with it." 
 And Mother Brown would caress the wan 
 cheeks and tell her that a single human soul 
 was worth more than all the world besides ; that 
 the dear Christ was eager and waiting; that He 
 was yearning to forgive her and to make her 
 even yet what she might have been. Then the 
 girl would cry softly, and they would read
 
 DAUGHTERS OF NECESSITY 173 
 
 together that chapter in John, and there would 
 be joy even among the angels in heaven. 
 
 But Isobel Carniston had done nothing of the 
 kind. 
 
 For a day or two, while she was passing from 
 the shadow of danger, the pastor had called 
 often. He had not seen her, but he had heard 
 her, and as the time went on, he had begun to 
 revise certain of his ideals. 
 
 Could it be possible that Dick had been right ? 
 
 "Johnny," he had said, "you don't know any 
 more about women than you do about the 
 Begum of Swat." And he had said that the 
 girl had no soul, that she was a butterfly, a 
 magnificent animal, and nothing besides. 
 
 What, after all, is the soul? May it not lie 
 dormant in a life, to be called into activity at 
 length by some shock that stirs the deeps? It 
 did not seem impossible. It was only in the 
 light of some such theory indeed that the girl's 
 conduct could in any way be explained. One 
 must be self-sacrificing to appreciate self-sacri- 
 fice in others. If one be wholly self-centred, 
 one takes service as one's due. The girl seemed 
 to know only the present moment, and is there 
 anything in man save the soul that knows of 
 anything else? 
 
 She was selfish and vain and therefore cruel.
 
 174 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 Flattery and excitement and movement and 
 color had been her daily narcotic, and now her 
 whole being demanded them with an imperious- 
 ness that would not be denied. She whined in 
 self-pity, or fretted like a bird in a cage, or 
 exploded in tempestuous wrath. Her voice, 
 querulous or high, had penetrated to him more 
 than once as he had sat with Mother Brown 
 discussing the girl, and it had jarred upon him 
 as few things ever had done in his whole experi- 
 ence. There had been not one hint of sorrow 
 for the past, or of resolve for the future; nor 
 was there one throb of appreciation of what was 
 being done for her, or one symptom that she 
 realized her true position. 
 
 He turned at length to his desk by sheer force 
 of habit. Whatever might happen, the sermon 
 must still go on. But what was the matter with 
 his material ? His notes, as he read them over, 
 seemed lifeless. The subject no longer ap- 
 pealed to him; it was too narrow in its scope, 
 and too trite and conventional. He closed the 
 books one by one and put them back in place, 
 and then sheet by sheet he tore up the manu- 
 script and threw it into the basket. He must 
 have a topic that would exhibit Christianity in 
 all its magnitude. She was coming again 
 she had said so that afternoon and she must
 
 DAUGHTERS OF NECESSITY 175 
 
 be convinced that the religion of Jesus Christ 
 is all-sufficient and all-enduring. 
 
 Rapidly he leafed through the notebook 
 where he had jotted down random thoughts and 
 sermon hints. There was nothing there that 
 seemed wholly adequate. Perhaps the text, 
 "Are not Abana and Pharphar, rivers of 
 Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel," 
 might do. "Israel" could be taken to cover all 
 Christianity. He would lift it into the pure 
 ether of absolute Truth and then contrast it 
 with all other religions and especially the petty 
 newnesses of the day. The subject impressed 
 him more and more as he dwelt upon it. It 
 would, however, require study; it would de- 
 mand powerful handling if it were to instruct 
 and move her. No conventional message 
 would satisfy that clear soul, and no breath of 
 cant or of Pharisaism would escape her. His 
 view must be world-wide and his toleration, as 
 well, and his sympathy. 
 
 With characteristic energy he began instantly 
 upon his preparation. It flashed upon him that 
 he had in his overcoat pocket her copy of ex- 
 tracts from the "Upanishads." That would be 
 a good starting-point. He got it and examined 
 it with curiosity. It was a dainty thing with 
 vellum binding and immaculate margins, and
 
 176 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 there breathed from it that subtle odor of in- 
 cense that henceforth he was to associate 
 always with her. Her name was on the title 
 page "Helda Thost" in a hand, it seemed to 
 him, no one else could have written, so dis- 
 tinctive was it and so full of her personality. 
 He had never seen her writing before. All 
 through the book there were marked passages 
 and little marginal notes. How alert she was 
 and how full had been her reading! There 
 came to him a new conception of the woman: 
 here was a soul that could rise above petty con- 
 ventionalities and prejudice and be satisfied only 
 with the eternal values. And she had the cour- 
 age of her convictions; she had broken away 
 and was content only with the Truth in its 
 universal wholeness. She was honest that 
 was written in every line, and she was impa- 
 tient with every trace of blind, unthinking 
 acceptance of dogma. More than once he 
 found her words, "Prove all things." "This 
 thrills with life and is true." On and on he 
 read in a kind of excitement, heedless of the 
 time of night, and only when the book was com- 
 pleted did he awake to himself. It was half- 
 past two. 
 
 He did not sleep well. His mind was in a 
 turmoil. He was up at half-past six and at the
 
 DAUGHTERS OF NECESSITY 177 
 
 price of his breakfast he took a long walk out 
 beyond the suburbs into the open spaces where 
 there were fields and gardens. It was the nine- 
 teenth of March. The spring was breaking 
 early. Robins and bluebirds called from the 
 tall maples, and flickers and grackles sent their 
 raucous cackle from the distant patches of 
 woodland. The morning and the spring 
 quickly drove from him every trace of his night 
 of brooding. He felt like a boy. Once he 
 broke into a run in the excess of his spirits. A 
 farmer asked him to ride and it seemed almost 
 like an insult. The spring was in his blood. 
 It was ten o'clock when he got back to Mother 
 Brown's Mission. He would go in and apolo- 
 gize for his neglect of the evening before. The 
 girl had been sick just a week now and she 
 ought to be gaining. Perhaps in a week more 
 she might be sitting up. 
 
 He knocked at the door softly. 
 
 "Oh, I'm so glad you've come!" The door 
 had opened even while he was rapping. "She's 
 frightfully restless. I don't know what to do 
 with her. She's up and in the big chair by 
 the window, but she is fretting herself to 
 death." 
 
 She turned and he followed her. In the hall, 
 as he was taking off his coat, he caught a
 
 i/8 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 glimpse of her through the open door propped 
 up in the rocker amid cushions facing him full, 
 and the vision startled him even as it had on 
 that morning at the mission. What strange 
 creature was this forever mocking him and 
 flying in the face of all his preconceptions? 
 This was no invalid, wan and hollow-eyed, no 
 penitent Magdalen shrinking and tearful, ap- 
 pealing with mute pathos for the sympathy that 
 even the pitiful must withhold. She was pale, 
 but the waxen pallor under the marvellous gold 
 only intensified her beauty. He stood embar- 
 rassed for an instant, groping for the right 
 word to say. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Gait," she burst out, in a voice that 
 betrayed no weakness. "Is it really you? 
 Positively, you are the first living thing I have 
 seen for a thousand years. Positively, you 
 are." 
 
 "Then you must be the sleeping beauty, just 
 awake," he answered, with a gallantry that 
 surprised him. 
 
 "I've been here a million years. I can't 
 remember when I wasn't here. My God, is 
 there a single thing alive anywhere a single 
 thing in the whole world?" 
 
 "Why, the world is very much alive," he
 
 DAUGHTERS OF NECESSITY 179 
 
 replied, wonderingly. "It's spring and the 
 morning is just running over with life." 
 
 ''Then, why have I got to lie here?" she 
 demanded, fiercely, as if he only were to blame. 
 "Why have I got to be tied and chained down 
 here where I can't get a breath? And every- 
 thing else in the whole world is happy but just 
 me and I tied down here in this prison. Oh, 
 there's a hell all right. I've been in it a week 
 I've been tied down with red-hot chains for 
 a week, and what have I done ? My God, what 
 have I done?" 
 
 "Sh! Sh! There! there!" Mother Brown 
 went up to her and took her hand softly. "You 
 mustn't, little girlie! What will Mr. Gait 
 think?" 
 
 "I don't care what he thinks; he said I de- 
 served it. He said I ought to suffer in hell 
 a million years." 
 
 "Oh, no, no. You are wrong, Isobel " 
 
 "He did, and he's glad of it. And what 
 have I done? Is it any sin to be happy? Am 
 I to blame for loving happy things ? Is it my 
 fault that I want to live? to live?" Her eyes 
 were wild and glittering. 
 
 "Oh, Isobel, please" 
 
 "What are pretty things for ?" she stormed
 
 i8o THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "dresses and music and dances and happy, 
 happy things? And it all stopped in one min- 
 ute and they threw me away oh, the cowards 
 oh, if I ever get well " 
 
 "Why, Isobel, is this the way you welcome 
 Mr. Gait, who has taken so much trouble to 
 come down to see you?" 
 
 "I don't care; he glories in it. He said I 
 deserved it. He said there's a God, and it's a 
 lie. If there was a God, would He put me into 
 hell and let them go free, just as if they were 
 angels of heaven? You tell me that." She 
 paused breathless and looked at him wildly. It 
 was as if he were the judge who had con- 
 demned her. 
 
 "I don't understand you, Miss Carniston," 
 he said slowly, like a doctor over a doubtful 
 case. He was rocking back and forth in his 
 armchair and looking at her as if she were 
 infinitely far away. 
 
 "Oh, so you don't understand?" she retorted 
 hotly. "That's just what I thought. Oh, it 
 makes me sick the way you people up there lay 
 down your little rules as if you was God Him- 
 self, when you don't know any more about us 
 than you would if we lived in the moon." 
 
 "Why, Isobel!" protested Mother Brown. 
 
 "It's God's truth," she hissed. "You make
 
 DAUGHTERS OF NECESSITY 181 
 
 your rules and then you bow down and worship 
 'em, and you leave out nineteen out of every 
 twenty you meet on the street." 
 
 "But the law was made by God. A woman 
 cannot " 
 
 "Don't you say it; I know all about it and 
 you don't know anything 1 /' she waved her hand, 
 contemptuously. "I've heard it till it makes me 
 sick. That'll go down the throats of your pious 
 folks, but it don't go here, I'll tell you that. 
 You let me take you down some night to the 
 corner of Bridge and Main, and let me tell you 
 about the crowd that goes by there in two 
 hours." 
 
 "Nevertheless, there are certain iron laws " 
 
 "Aw-w, rats!" 
 
 "But, sister" 
 
 "You tell me what you know about how a 
 working-girl lives in this city you tell me that. 
 You go and work awhile. You can damn us 
 glib enough now, but what do you know about 
 it? Nothing. My God, it makes me sick to 
 my stomach." 
 
 "Please don't, Isobel," pleaded the old voice. 
 
 "But I know what I'm talking about," she 
 went on, shrilly. "You can't tell me. I've 
 been through it and I know. The girl that 
 earns her own board and clothes in this city
 
 182 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 has got to be a machine. She can't stop and 
 she can't have a thing that's decent, and she's 
 got to go on working till she drops dead. And, 
 my God, if she's got a single grain of spirit in 
 her, she's going to sell her soul out of her to 
 live to live I mean to live. And are you 
 going to blame her? Good God! I wish you 
 could take her place for just one week; I'd like 
 to hear you preach when it came Sunday. 
 Don't she see money all around her, every step 
 she takes folks just wallowing in it every- 
 thing that is bright and pretty and glorious 
 life, life, life, every step she takes, and she'd 
 die if she could only be in it one day, and she's 
 bound hand and foot like a nigger slave. My 
 God! Do you blame her for taking the only 
 way there is? Do you blame her?" She 
 leaned over and glared at him. "You let me 
 tell you one thing." She hissed the words 
 through her teeth. "I'd do it again. You 
 think I'm sorry? Well, I ain't." 
 
 "Why, Isobel!" gasped Mother Brown. 
 
 "Oh, I ain't your soft, repenting kind, don't 
 you forget that. My God! How little you 
 know about it, and you can't and you never can 
 and you set there like God Almighty and make 
 rules oh, it makes me laugh !" she sank back, 
 laughing hysterically.
 
 DAUGHTERS OF NECESSITY 183 
 
 Mother Brown looked over at the pastor, 
 almost pleadingly. Clearly she was at her wits' 
 end. She had done her best before the pastor 
 had arrived. Gait was still looking into the 
 distance, absorbedly. 
 
 "I want to ask you a question, sister," he 
 said, in a voice that caused the girl to look up 
 at him quickly. "Did not Christ know " 
 
 "Oh, rats ! Christ, Christ all you know is 
 just Christ ! What do girls who work for fifty 
 cents a day and board and clothe and room 
 themselves out of it get out of your Christ? 
 They didn't make themselves? They didn't 
 say where they should be born? They didn't 
 make the world? They just go where they 
 must, that's all, and who is there to blame?" 
 
 "Nevertheless the only remedy lies right in 
 Jesus Christ." There was an unusual ring in 
 his voice. It was seldom that he had been so 
 
 
 
 stirred. 
 
 "Pshaw ! If you're going to talk to me, talk 
 sense, for God's sake," she sneered. "All I 
 know about is just live men and women ; if you 
 can't say anything but just 'Christ, Christ, 
 Christ,' like a poll parrot, then don't talk." 
 
 "But Jesus Christ is the most living thing 
 there is in this world to-day. You can see Him 
 this moment, right here. For you Mother
 
 184 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 Brown here is Christ and I am Christ. It is 
 just as I told you, He is walking in the flesh 
 up and down the world this moment, and in 
 your need He has come to you. Why do we 
 come to you when your world has deserted you? 
 Why has Mother Brown here given herself, 
 night and day, to help you? She gets no 
 money for it. I wasn't obliged to come down 
 here this morning to see you. Why do we do 
 it ? It is because of the Christ love. We love 
 you and we want to help you." 
 
 For some reason the girl did not answer. 
 The rebellion was fading out of her face. She 
 was looking him full in the eyes. 
 
 ''Don't think we are judging you," he went 
 on, bending toward her in his earnestness. 
 "We are not laying down new and harsh rules 
 for you. We do not condemn you; we do not 
 chide you for your past. We are trying to help 
 you your real self. The future is all before 
 all of us ; you still have it. We want you to be 
 true to the best that is in you." 
 
 The soul of the man was in his voice and his 
 eyes. In his eagerness to bring light to this 
 darkened and desolate soul, he was almost like 
 a lover, pleading and wooing. There was no 
 sign now of anger in her face. A rosy flush 
 was creeping into the marble of her cheek.
 
 DAUGHTERS OF NECESSITY 185 
 
 "There is a life a thousand times more beau- 
 tiful and satisfying than any you have ever 
 seen or even dreamed about. We don't condemn 
 the beautiful things ; we love them. We want 
 the young people to get from life just all of the 
 pure enjoyment they can. Christ did not con- 
 demn the happy things: He condemned only 
 sin. We want you to be happy first of all. 
 Don't you believe this ? Don't you accept what 
 I have said?" 
 
 "Yes," she said softly, looking him full in 
 the eyes. 
 
 "And you will pray to know what to do? 
 And you'll have Mother Brown teach you to 
 pray?" he asked, intensely. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "My little Testament you'll read it, those 
 chapters I marked? Will you?" 
 
 "Yes," she whispered. 
 
 "Thank God!" He turned with beaming 
 face to Mother Brown. "You must lead her; 
 you must help her," he said. "There is dark- 
 ness ahead, but the blood of Jesus Christ 
 cleanseth from all sin. Thank God !" A feel- 
 ing of elation filled him. He had won. He 
 had never seen that look save on the faces of 
 those just come into the light of God. 
 
 There was an awkward moment. The girl
 
 186 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 with round eyes was still looking at him, with 
 a look of half wonder and half of worship. A 
 moment, and then, with a woman's instinct, 
 Mother Brown had an impulse to change the 
 subject. 
 
 "Look at the little sparrow," she cried. "He 
 is right on the window, looking in. Just see 
 the little rogue and hear him splutter. He is 
 saying, 'Good morning, where are those 
 crumbs ?' ' 
 
 She disappeared for a moment, then brought 
 a crust of bread which she threw out of the 
 door. Then she pushed the chair up to the win- 
 dow that the girl might see the little flock as 
 they bustled and chattered over their breakfast. 
 
 "Now, most people don't like the little spar- 
 rows," she went on cheerily, "and call 'em 
 nuisances, but I don't. I just stand up for 'em. 
 They live right here all the cold winter, and in 
 the city, too. We wouldn't see any birds at all 
 if it wasn't for the little chippies." 
 
 She seated herself again in the armchair, and 
 began upon some knitting which she took from 
 the table. She was a thin, sprightly little 
 woman of sixty, with wavy, grayish hair that 
 had once been red, and with large gray eyes 
 behind iron-bowed spectacles. Hers had been 
 a hard, sad life, but she was not bitter or melan-
 
 DAUGHTERS OF NECESSITY 187 
 
 choly. She looked like one who has found safe 
 harbor for a time after many storms, and who 
 looks forward with serenity to one more voyage, 
 and then to the long home. 
 
 "I fear I have tired you." The pastor arose 
 as if to go. "I have excited you. I have stayed 
 too long." 
 
 "Oh, no, no. Don't go yet. I'm not the 
 least bit tired, really." The flush in her cheeks 
 heightened; her eyes were feverishly brilliant. 
 "When you go, we shall be all alone again and 
 there won't be a living thing here for weeks 
 and weeks. And it's so beautiful outside. - 
 Oh, I must go out. I know I'm well enough 
 to ride. Oh, I know if I could get just one 
 breath of air I should be well perfectly well. 
 It's just like summer out. Can't we go now?" 
 
 "I'm afraid you are not well enough yet," 
 he said, humoringly. 
 
 "Then, to-morrow. I shall be well enough 
 to-morrow." 
 
 "When the doctor says you can go I will 
 send you a buggy to take you way out into the 
 country," he said, as if to a sick child. 
 
 "But, I want you to go; I want you to talk 
 to me. You will, won't you, Friday?" 
 
 "The doctor" 
 
 "Oh, the doctor doesn't know anything about
 
 i88 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 it. But when I'm well enough you'll take me, 
 won't you?" 
 
 "Why, yes when you are well enough." 
 
 "It'll be two weeks, little girl," Mother 
 Brown broke in, warningly, "before it will be 
 safe for you to ride out at least two weeks." 
 
 "No, no, no," she stormed. 
 
 " Good-by." The pastor took her hand a 
 moment, and then turned abruptly. "I'll 
 come again soon and see how you are getting 
 along." 
 
 "Good-by." 
 
 He was in the hall, but something in the tone 
 made him turn. She was sitting erect, free of 
 the cushions, her hair a marvellous halo about 
 her face and neck, a dainty kimono, low at the 
 throat, clinging to the curves of her lithe body. 
 Her cheeks were burning with color and even 
 her forehead and neck. 
 
 "No, no, you must not exert yourself," he 
 cried, alarmed at her appearance. "You have 
 overdone you are ill." 
 
 "I'm not sick I'm well again, I'm well. 
 See!" She threw out her arms, joyously, as if 
 they had been loosed of fetters. "Really, I 
 could run with you up the street. I have a 
 mind to this minute. Oh, won't you take me ?" 
 For a wild instant she held up her arms to him
 
 DAUGHTERS OF NECESSITY 189 
 
 like a child, and there was entreaty in every line 
 and feature. For a single instant then she 
 fell back among the pillows. 
 
 "No, no," she laughed, as if it were a scene 
 of a play. "I must wait ; but, Mr. Gait, you'll 
 come and take me to ride when the doctor says 
 I may go ? It would do me so much good, and 
 there are so many things I must ask you about. 
 You will, won't you?" 
 
 ''Yes," he said, slowly. 
 
 "I'll get well fast I'll be well to-morrow. 
 Good-by, good-by." She waved her hand at 
 him gaily, and as he looked back from the street 
 he saw her through the window still waving at 
 him. He took off his hat and smiled at her as 
 to a child that must be humored. Yes, he 
 would take her to a ride just as soon as it was 
 prudent. She needed to be instructed and led 
 in the life that was before her. It would re- 
 quire all the skill of which he was master to 
 direct this new soul and to discipline and subdue 
 her. But he had made the first great step and 
 the rest was as nothing to that. As he went 
 along the spring streets his heart sang aloud 
 with joy. The world was good. 
 
 In reality the man was as much an extreme 
 as even the girl. In life and ideals he was a 
 Puritan born out of time. He had schooled
 
 190 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 himself until the world seemed not a thing to 
 be enjoyed or even valued; it was a thing to be 
 saved. Everything that did not tend toward 
 evangelization and the redeeming of sinful men 
 was to him of secondary value. On the walls 
 of his study in large letters, so that his eyes 
 might fall upon it hour by hour, was Paul's 
 text: "I determined not to know anything 
 among you, save Jesus Christ and Him cruci- 
 fied." 
 
 With his tremendous convictions and his 
 absorption in his work, he had been almost 
 unconscious of the other side of his nature. 
 He had thrust it down ; he had banished it from 
 his consciousness; he had "crucified it." And 
 yet nature had not formed him for an ascetic. 
 She had made him in generous mold. He was 
 broad-shouldered and manly; he looked one 
 squarely in the eyes with the subtle force that 
 penetrates the soul. Guile and uncleanness 
 dropped its eyes before that pure gaze. There 
 was a magnetism about the man that drew with 
 subtle power, especially the feminine element of 
 his church. They obeyed him without ques- 
 tion; they gathered in full strength at his call; 
 and they made up ever the bulk of his audience. 
 It was only the innocence of the man, his lack 
 of training on the worldly side, his rapt single-
 
 DAUGHTERS OF NECESSITY 191 
 
 ness of heart that had blinded him to the true 
 reason for this zeal. 
 
 And thus it had been in his contact with 
 Isobel Carniston. He was totally unmoved by 
 her. There was something about the girl that 
 instinctively repelled him, something that jarred 
 ever like a discord upon his sensitive soul. 
 Temptation to assail him strongly must come 
 from his strongest side from the intellectual 
 and the spiritual. 
 
 But not so with Isobel Carniston. 
 
 All unconsciously the pastor had set free in 
 her wild heart a torrent that was tropic in its 
 rush and power. Had he touched life more 
 closely, had he been less pure of heart and more 
 worldly-wise, he would have seen, but as it was 
 he went on in all honesty to save the girl's soul. 
 
 And the girl had no soul.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE SOUL AND THE UNSOUL 
 
 ON Thursday afternoon Dick came again 
 to the pastor's room, this time with the 
 amazing announcement that he had joined the 
 Thost circle to hear the whole course of lectures. 
 
 "And you are going with me, Johnny," he 
 added. "I've made all the arrangements. I 
 have got to have you for chaperone. It's im- 
 perative." 
 
 "A good idea," Gait said, dryly. This was 
 one of Dick's jokes. He knew the man, and 
 had heard him talk of Helda Thost and of 
 esoteric women. 
 
 "But, Johnny, I mean it." 
 
 "First stage of Bostonitis, I suppose. Got 
 enough Browning to get in without entrance 
 conditions ?" 
 
 "Laugh away, Johnny, but I've joined 'em, 
 just the same, and I'm going to see it through. 
 And you are going along with me." 
 
 "Are you really honest, Dick?" 
 
 "Hope to die." 
 
 192
 
 THE SOUL AND THE UNSOUL 193 
 
 Dick did mean it. As the pastor looked him 
 in the eyes, his mirth changed to astonishment. 
 Dick, of all men, an attendant upon a course 
 of religious lectures for women! What had 
 happened? Perhaps he wished to study for 
 professional reasons this phase of modern life. 
 And yet what possible connection could there 
 be between law and this occult circle ? Perhaps 
 he was doing it in some way for the sake of 
 his sister that was the way Gait had accounted 
 for his interest thus far, but to join the select 
 inner circle and to take the whole course! 
 There was a deeper reason. Perhaps it was 
 an impulse of the moment; he would break the 
 monotony of his professional life by exploring 
 this utterly new field. That was possible: he 
 was always doing the unexpected. Then there 
 was the woman to be considered. Dick himself 
 had once said that the first axiom in the law 
 is this : ''When utterly at a loss to explain the 
 conduct of a man, look for a woman." Ridicu- 
 lous ! She was not Dick's type at all. She 
 was that purely intellectual type that so easily 
 slips into occultism and mysticism, the type that 
 is as free from sensibility and sentimentalism as 
 a diamond. Dick would be attracted by a big, 
 vital, healthful woman, splendidly strong and 
 beautiful and bubbling over with laughter
 
 194 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 and physical life an Isobel Carniston, refined 
 and redeemed. Dick had a vein of sentiment, 
 the pastor knew that. Deep down there was 
 in the man a hunger for the beautiful and the 
 deep things of life, a hunger that not one of the 
 world in which he moved even suspected in 
 him. Only Gait knew that. And this woman 
 who had seemed to sacrifice heart to brain 
 would never do at all. Dick might as well fall 
 in love with an abstraction. But had the 
 woman sacrificed heart to brain? Mere intel- 
 lect would not have taken her that day to the 
 tenements. How tender she had been and how 
 full of pity. He could see her now as she bent 
 over the neglected child, her eyes full of tears. 
 He had forgotten Dick. As they took their 
 car and later as they walked up Summer Street 
 to their appointment, his mind was full of this 
 woman. Dick's elaborate reasons for joining 
 the group he did not hear at all ; he was trying 
 to explain Helda Thost and the subtle power 
 that could compel a man like Dick. What 
 would be the outcome ? What if he should fall 
 in love with her? What would be the effect 
 upon the man when he awoke to find, as he 
 must find, that she was as cold and unattainable 
 as a vision ? For it was inconceivable that this 
 woman, all intellect and soul, should ever think
 
 THE SOUL AND THE UNSOUL 195 
 
 of Dick or anyone else in the light of marriage. 
 Would it embitter him and make him reckless, 
 or would it chasten him and bring him to a 
 realization of the deeper things of life? 
 
 Again they were in the dimness of the Ori- 
 ental room, which now seemed full of women 
 sitting with bare heads in breathless hush. It 
 was like a group of devotees in the act of wor- 
 ship. Not a head turned as the two entered. 
 Even Dick became solemn and still. 
 
 After a moment the curtains parted silently 
 and Helda Thost, in pure white, which made 
 her face seem unnaturally pale in the half light, 
 was ushered in by Frieda Paine. An audible 
 sigh breathed up from the room and the silence 
 became, if possible, more intense. 
 
 For a moment the woman stood looking over 
 the little group, a smile of welcome in her eyes, 
 and then she began to speak in a voice that was 
 singularly musical and winning. Gait's notes, 
 as he read them over in his room that evening, 
 ran something like this: 
 
 "The nature of the soul. The fable of 
 Undine based on a fundamental principle of 
 human life. Up to a certain time man has no 
 soul. The animal is ruled by the unsoul. The 
 body is purely and utterly selfish. It is like 
 the leopard or the python, radiantly beautiful,
 
 196 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 it may be, but wholly self-centred and cruel as 
 death. In children and in material men there 
 is no soul. It must awake; it must take com- 
 mand; it must become the dominant power. 
 Not all men have souls, but all are capable of 
 soul. The world is full of those in whom the 
 soul has never awakened, the fleshly and the 
 material. It is they who cause the discord and 
 the failure in our human life. Soul comes ever 
 from the vision of the immaterial; from the 
 awakening of the love that is deathless; from 
 a glimpse over the material into the infinite. 
 At the moment of soul-awakening is where all 
 tragedy begins, for all tragedy is but the strug- 
 gle between soul and unsoul. When the soul 
 awakes the eyes of the life are opened and for 
 the first time it really sees. The unsoul sees 
 only the fleshly and the material. It worships 
 only the god of moments. It is conscious of 
 mere physical beauty and its love is therefore 
 evanescent, for the physical changes with every 
 moment. What it loved yesterday to-day 
 does not exist in earth or heaven. The love 
 that is unchanging sees only the unchanging 
 soul. It is a union of souls and incidentally 
 of bodies. It ends never in disaster or di- 
 vorce. Sir Edwin Arnold has most beauti- 
 fully caught it:
 
 THE SOUL AND THE UNSOUL 197 
 
 'Somewhere there waiteth in this world of ours 
 
 For one lone soul another lonely soul, 
 Each chasing each through all the weary hours, 
 
 And meeting strangely at some sudden goal, 
 Then blend they, like green leaves with golden flow- 
 ers, 
 
 Into one beautiful and perfect whole. 
 And life's long night is ended, and the way lies open 
 onward to eternal day.' 
 
 The very soul of the East is in that; the very 
 essence of the life of the spirit. But the love 
 of the unsoul cries with the old poet, 
 
 'Oh wally, wally but love be bonny 
 A little while while it is new, 
 But ' 
 
 and in that one little word lies a whole library 
 of tragedy and half of human misery. It voices 
 the whole universe that lies between the love 
 of the unsoul and the love that is deathless. 
 The unsoul cries selfishly for possession. It 
 cries, 'I love you, therefore I must have you.' 
 The soul cries selflessly, 'I love you enough, if 
 need be, not to marry you/ 
 
 "The Oriental view of the soul. The Over- 
 soul. Divided souls that seek each other 
 through successive incarnations. The power 
 of souls. Were the soul completely in com- 
 mand, our world would be a power-house of
 
 198 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 which we have no conception. That mysteri- 
 ous force that we call by various names 
 telepathy, hypnotism, spiritism, and the like is 
 but the play of active soul upon active soul. 
 When we know more about this subtle force we 
 shall revise all our creeds. There is a wireless 
 power that surpasses Marconi as the airship 
 surpasses the barrow. The next science is the 
 science of the human soul. We have at our 
 command forces more active than radium. 
 What we call fate and destiny are but the play 
 upon us of active souls. Wireless messages 
 are striking us at every angle, but we read them 
 not. Souls akin to ours are signalling us, but 
 we heed them not. The secret of the universe 
 is signalled us from a thousand viewless points, 
 but our souls are out of tune. 
 
 "The life of the soul. The cultivation of the 
 soul. Messages between the soul and the Over- 
 soul. Absorption into the Oversoul and the 
 glories of the complete soul with the unsoul 
 forever lost." 
 
 Gait's notes became more and more fragmen- 
 tary and ceased. Her presence seemed to dom- 
 inate the room until all else was forgotten. 
 When at last she ceased speaking it surprised 
 him. He felt like crying out, "Don't stop ; go 
 on, go on." Her words had somehow the ring
 
 THE SOUL AND THE UNSOUL 199 
 
 of an inspired message ; and yet, as he thought 
 of it afterwards, there was nothing really 
 remarkable about them. It must have been the 
 rapt intenseness of her manner, the clearness 
 of her thought, and the subtle music of her 
 voice that had produced the effect. He did not 
 arise with the others, but sat trying to think 
 it out while they pressed about her with ques- 
 tions and little exclamations and congratula- 
 tions. A voice at his elbow made him start. 
 
 "Mr. Gait, I am very glad you came in with 
 us. It was really inspiring, was it not?" 
 
 It was Miss Farrand of his own congrega- 
 tion. 
 
 "Yes, it was interesting." He scrambled to 
 his feet and took her hand. "I came in, you 
 know, out of curiosity," he added, "with my 
 friend ah, Miss Farrand, let me present my 
 friend, Mr. Paine." 
 
 Dick repeated the usual formulae, and then, 
 before the pastor could say more, he burst out 
 with, "Mr. Gait and I have decided to take the 
 whole course. . We have made all the arrange- 
 ments." 
 
 "No, no, I have not said that." 
 
 "Mademoiselle Thost will be very glad to 
 have you come, I am sure," the woman an- 
 swered, graciously. "Miss Hanson" she
 
 200 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 turned to a stately dame behind her, a woman 
 with wavy iron-gray hair and prominent spec- 
 tacles "I wish you to meet the new members 
 of our circle, The Reverend Mr. Gait, and Mr. 
 Paine. Mr. Gait is a deep student of all phases 
 of religious thought," she added. The woman 
 bowed with dignity. 
 
 Then one by one Miss Farrand introduced 
 the whole circle to Gait and then to Dick, 
 "the new recruits" she called them. Two she 
 did not have to introduce Miss Janes and 
 Miss Bacon, wanderers from his own flock 
 who were visibly ill at ease as if he might be 
 there to rebuke them and to lead them back 
 home. 
 
 "You have met Mademoiselle Thost, I 
 know," Miss Farrand went on, sweetly. 
 "Surely you will speak with her a moment be- 
 fore you go?" 
 
 "Most certainly." 
 
 But Miss Thost was coming to them. 
 
 "It was good of you to come," she said, smil- 
 ing up at the pastor graciously. "You helped 
 me. I felt that you understood." 
 
 "Yes, I think I did," he said, slowly. 
 
 "We've joined the circle," announced Dick. 
 "I've made all the arrangements with Freddie. 
 We're coming to all the lectures."
 
 THE SOUL AND THE UNSOUL 201 
 
 "No, no. I'm not sure of that." Gait shook 
 his head doubtfully. 
 
 "I shall be glad if you can," she said, simply. 
 "I feel your sympathy, Mr. Gait." 
 
 "It's an inspiration to us all, I'm sure," Miss 
 Farrand added sweetly. 
 
 "Yes, to us all," they chorused. 
 
 Later as he sat in his room over the Abana 
 and Pharphar sermon he felt that had he been 
 honest he would have confessed in turn as much 
 to her as she had confessed to him. His 
 mental vision of her, her sensitive face, that 
 lighted so wondrously, looking up at him from 
 the pastor's pew, urged him indeed to his very 
 best. His own people, his church, he saw 
 nothing but her; every thought, every division 
 of his sermon he tested only as to its effect upon 
 her. 
 
 And on Sunday morning he was full of 
 eagerness to begin. She was there as he had 
 pictured her; she would understand him; she 
 would respond as one sensitive soul responds 
 to another. And as a result he preached with 
 a power that filled his audience with wonder. 
 Mr. Bailey, a clear-headed business man whose 
 thoughts six days in the week were wholly upon 
 mortgages and deeds, was greatly impressed 
 by it.
 
 202 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "Mr. Gait is improving," he said to his wife 
 as they walked home after the service. "City 
 life is brightening him up." 
 
 "Something seems to be." 
 
 "There wasn't a more brilliant sermon 
 preached to-day even in Boston," he went on. 
 "And the theme was a mighty timely and prac- 
 tical one." 
 
 "I should say so," she sniffed. 
 
 "There is altogether too much Christian Sci- 
 ence going on, and divine healing, and that sort 
 of stuff." 
 
 "Theosophy, for instance." 
 
 "Yes, Theosophy and all the other 'osophies.' 
 I like to hear a preacher throw things back 
 upon the old foundations with conviction the 
 way he did this morning. It's good ; it's what 
 we need." 
 
 "Perhaps it is what he needs," she insinuated. 
 
 "What do you mean ?" 
 
 "Perhaps he was trying to soothe his con- 
 science," she suggested. 
 
 "His conscience?" 
 
 "Did you see that little woman in black in 
 the pastor's pew?" 
 
 "Rather foreign-looking?" 
 
 "Yes. That's the celebrated Mademoiselle 
 Thost who has founded circles of adepts in all
 
 THE SOUL AND THE UNSOUL 203 
 
 the larger cities. She is establishing a circle 
 here." 
 
 "Well, she got in wrong this morning, all 
 right. That was certainly hot shot for her. 
 The pastor couldn't have hit it better if he had 
 known." 
 
 "He did know." 
 
 "Ah, got a tip and loaded up?" 
 
 "She was here last Sunday and you'll remem- 
 ber he preached the same kind of sermon, just 
 as if she were the only one in the audience. I 
 spoke to him about her and he said after he had 
 thought a moment that he did remember seeing 
 such a woman in the audience, but he implied 
 that he had never heard of her before. I told 
 him how dangerous she was and how she was 
 getting hold of our young ladies and how he 
 must lead the church in fighting her in every 
 possible way, and he seemed to agree in every 
 word I said. And it comes out that he was in- 
 timately acquainted with her. The sister of his 
 closest friend here in town is her assistant and 
 has been for years. He had been out riding 
 with the woman all alone just the day before 
 I spoke with him, and he had been with her at 
 private dinners, and had called on her at her 
 rooms, and he deliberately led me to infer that 
 he had never even heard of her."
 
 204 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "Perhaps he is trying to convert her." 
 
 "Huh!" she sniffed. "Let me tell you an- 
 other thing. He has just become one of her 
 adepts or devotees or whatever they call them, 
 and is to attend all of her lectures. I know it 
 positively. He met with the circle Thursday 
 and she told him that his presence always in- 
 spired her, that she felt his sympathy, and knew 
 that he understood. And he said yes, he under- 
 stood." 
 
 "He appears to be still fairly orthodox if you 
 judge him from his sermon. No trace of wa- 
 vering there. It seems to have been framed to 
 demolish her." 
 
 "That sermon was preached to his own con- 
 science. Do you suppose a woman like that is 
 going to be converted or even convinced by 
 preaching? He is the one who will move. 
 When a woman of that kind really tries to win 
 over a man of his type she does it every time." 
 
 "Pshaw ! You can't make me believe that in 
 the face of that sermon!" He was not easily 
 led. His wife was always making such discov- 
 eries and he had grown cautious. 
 
 "You wait and see, that's all." She had re- 
 torted with a woman's last argument. "One 
 thing you will have to admit: the influence on 
 our church is most damaging. Three of our
 
 THE SOUL AND THE UNSOUL 205 
 
 own girls were there Thursday and when they 
 found their pastor a member of the same circle 
 naturally their little consciences ceased at once 
 to trouble them. Before ten days she will have 
 a dozen of our girls, if not twenty. And think 
 of what people will say: the pastor of the old 
 North Street Church a convert to Theosophy 
 and a leader of his own church members into 
 the cult." 
 
 "I don't believe it will ever come to that." 
 Mr. Bailey snapped his head vigorously. 
 "After that sermon you can't convince me that 
 the pastor isn't as firmly set in his Christianity 
 as any man that is preaching to-day. What he 
 has done is simply to make a study of this thing 
 from the inside in order to get weapons with 
 which to fight it. Perhaps it isn't tactful or 
 conventional, but it's business. Don't you 
 worry one bit about the pastor." 
 
 "Well, you just wait and see." 
 
 And with this Parthian arrow she changed 
 the subject.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE FIRES OF SPRING 
 
 IT was ten days before Gait called at Mother 
 Brown's. He had fully intended to call 
 often, but somehow there had been no time. 
 He was working harder than usual. His at- 
 tendance upon the Thost lectures was in reality 
 troubling him, and, though he did not realize 
 it, he was trying to ease his conscience by 
 throwing himself with unusual earnestness into 
 the church work. And there was certainly 
 enough of it to throw himself into. He began 
 a series of calls on members in the outlying 
 districts, a much needed duty that he had long 
 had in mind, but one that made great demands 
 upon his time. Then there were the clubs and 
 the committees and the Bible class and the em- 
 ployment bureau to put into working order, 
 they had been going heavily of late, and for 
 the odds and ends of his time he had planned 
 another elaborate sermon for Miss Thost, who 
 promised to become a regular attendant. It 
 
 was more than one man's work just to keep the 
 
 206
 
 THE FIRES OF SPRING 207 
 
 machinery in movement, to say nothing of the 
 intellectual and the spiritual. 
 
 It was a morning in April when it came over 
 him that he had neglected Isobel Carniston. 
 He had arisen at sunrise and had looked out 
 over the glowing east. It was as warm as 
 summer. The thrill of awakened life was in 
 the air. Warm odors were breathing up from 
 moist earth and were filling every living thing 
 with longings and vague unrest. Impulsively 
 he dressed himself and hastened out into the 
 soft air. It was intoxicating; it thrilled and 
 sang in his blood. He would take a walk out 
 into the farthest suburbs ; he would be gone the 
 whole forenoon. It was spring. But before 
 he had fairly reached the end of the street there 
 flashed upon him the thought of that other day. 
 
 It seemed as if it were again that morning 
 when last he had seen her, that morning when 
 he had felt for the first time that she had a soul 
 and that he had touched it. How childishly 
 eager she had been when she had told him she 
 needed him to guide her in what she was to do, 
 and how pathetically she had said she could 
 hardly wait until he took her where she 
 could see the fresh country again and breathe 
 the air over the green fields. What had hap- 
 pened since then ? Perhaps she had found her
 
 208 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 strength again and had fled back into her old 
 life. What had there been to prevent ? What 
 had he done to help her into the new life that 
 she must now enter? W 7 hat was to be that 
 life? 
 
 He stopped short. He had neglected his 
 plain duty. He had been so busy with the 
 merely executive work of his church that he 
 had forgotten this soul that God had put into 
 his keeping. As if someone had called to him, 
 he turned sharp about and walked back to the 
 hotel as briskly indeed as he had walked from 
 it a moment before. He would speak to 
 Mother Brown; there was a telephone in the 
 house beyond the Mission and they would call 
 her in. In less than five minutes he had the 
 connection. 
 
 "Is Miss Carniston still at the Mission?" he 
 asked almost eagerly. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "How is she?" 
 
 "Very well. Oh, is that you, Mr. Gait?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "We have wondered why you have not been 
 down, Mr. Gait. We have looked for you. 
 She is gaining steadily, but she is restless and 
 unsettled. She frets because you don't come 
 down. She wants to talk with you, and she is
 
 THE FIRES OF SPRING 209 
 
 very eager to get out into the air and the coun- 
 try/' 
 
 "Is she able to ride?" 
 
 "Yes. And she ought to. There is nothing 
 that would do her so much good. She is like a 
 child about it." 
 
 "Have you made any plans for her future?" 
 
 "None that is final. She has 'been waiting 
 till she could talk it over with you." 
 
 "Could she ride this morning?" 
 
 "Why, indeed she could." 
 
 "At ten o'clock?" 
 
 "Why yes." 
 
 "Then I shall call for you both at ten o'clock." 
 * "No, no, I can't go. I would like to, but it 
 is impossible. I have work." 
 
 "I'm very sorry, Mrs. Brown." There was 
 real regret in his tone. "Then we shall have 
 to go alone. Tell her to be ready at ten. 
 Good-bye." 
 
 He hung up the receiver and made arrange- 
 ments with the clerk for an automobile and 
 chauffeur at ten o'clock. That would be better 
 than a horse and buggy. She would like to go 
 out into the country where there were wood- 
 lands and wild birds. 
 
 He decided not to take his walk. He would 
 eat breakfast after all and then he would work
 
 210 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 the rest of the time on his sermon. He left the 
 dining-room with briskness and settled himself 
 in his study chair. It was no use. The spring 
 was upon him. The sun from the east win- 
 dows was in his face as he sat fumbling with 
 his papers, and before he realized it he was on 
 his feet again looking out over the housetops 
 into the park trees and the warm sky. The 
 ride would do him good, too. He would go 
 out beyond the last trace of the city to where 
 they could fly along the country roads where the 
 pussy-willows were in the fence corners and 
 the hepatica and arbutus were pushing up 
 through the damp leaves on the hillsides. 
 
 When at ten o'clock the car drew up before 
 the Mission he was as eager as a boy. He had 
 been working harder than he realized, and now 
 he was to have a holiday along the woodsides 
 and by the open fields. 
 
 "Oh, he's brought a car!" She came run- 
 ning out like a child. 
 
 Mother Brown bustled out after her with 
 shawls and wraps, but the girl pushed them 
 away scornfully. 
 
 "The idea!" she cried. "I'm not sick. I'm 
 well; I'm perfectly well." And indeed as she 
 bounded up the step and into the car there was 
 upon her no trace of any sickness. She looked
 
 THE FIRES OF SPRING 211 
 
 gloriously well, a woman strong and ruddy, 
 thrilling with life and radiant in the joy of the 
 perfect Now. Mother Brown threw the wraps 
 into the tonneau, declaring that the weather was 
 deceiving and that she must surely put them on, 
 and then the car glided away, the girl waving 
 her hand joyously and laughing aloud. 
 
 "You don't seem sick," the pastor said, smil- 
 ingly. 
 
 "Sick!" she cried, in scorn. "I'm absurdly, 
 ridiculously well. I never am sick. I'm well." 
 And again she laughed with the mere joy of 
 physical life. 
 
 The swift movement and the sense of escape 
 from the dingy room into the glory of the 
 spring morning brought out a phase of the girl 
 that Gait had not seen before. She was like a 
 child on a holiday; he could think of nothing 
 else. She looked into his eyes and laughed 
 aloud; she took off her hat and let the wind 
 wanton in her hair ; and she threw up her hands 
 and laughed again as they swung about the 
 sharp turns. 
 
 "Oh, let's go faster," she called. 
 
 "I'm afraid you'll get cold." There was a 
 note of anxiety in his voice. "You have noth- 
 ing on your head or about your throat. You 
 should have a wrap."
 
 212 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "Cold?" she cried. "I never got cold in my 
 life." 
 
 She gave a toss of her head to throw the 
 blowsing hair from her eyes, and again she 
 looked at him and laughed. 
 
 "Oh, I would like to run it a while myself!" 
 she burst out. "Mayn't I ?" 
 
 Gait did not laugh. For him the beauty had 
 suddenly left the morning. This woman with 
 her unnatural spirits troubled him. He forgot 
 about the springtime and the country fields. 
 He did not answer her bubbling questions or 
 heed her at all. He was wondering. 
 
 And even as he wondered her mood changed. 
 Her face became suddenly long. She moved 
 very close to him and looked into his eyes ap- 
 pealingly. 
 
 "Do you know what you have been to me, 
 Mr. Gait?" she said, impetuously. "I didn't 
 know anything, or care for anything until I 
 knew you. Do you know what I should 
 have done if it hadn't been for you? I mean 
 last week when you didn't come? Do you 
 know?" 
 
 "No," he said, wonderingly. 
 
 "I should have run away. I should have 
 gone to Boston." 
 
 "And what could you do in Boston?" he
 
 THE FIRES OF SPRING 213 
 
 asked, more because she had paused than any- 
 thing else. 
 
 "Oh, one can always find a place in a chorus 
 somewhere. I can dance oh, you ought to 
 see me dance, Mr. Gait; it would break your 
 heart/' She laughed at the look in his face, 
 and then with swift change she added, "And I 
 can sing ; you never heard me sing. Some time 
 I'll sing for you something you'll like." She 
 paused and cocked her head at him. 
 
 "It's no place for a woman," he burst out, 
 with emphasis. "It's the wrong kind of life. 
 It leads to vanity and wrong standards " 
 
 "Oh, I didn't go," she said, archly. "I 
 waited for you." 
 
 He said nothing. 
 
 "Do you know, Mr. Gait," she began, im- 
 pulsively, "ever since that morning you re- 
 member that morning, what you said to me I 
 didn't care then. Now now I care." She 
 had turned her eyes from him and was picking 
 at the fingers of her glove. 
 
 For a moment he did not speak. He had 
 turned quickly and looked at her, as if uncer- 
 tain of her meaning. The look satisfied him. 
 
 "I understand," he said, softly. "And you 
 are sure?" 
 
 "Yes."
 
 214 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "I'm glad," he said, awkwardly. 
 
 Again there was silence. She did not look 
 up. She was toying with her glove. 
 
 "And you'll help me, Mr. Gait?" She spoke 
 so low that he could hardly hear her above the 
 throbbing of the car. 
 
 "All that's in my power." The words burst 
 from the man's heart. 
 
 "Yes, but " she stopped. 
 
 "As I told you that other morning, you are 
 with friends now." In his embarrassment he 
 began automatically to preach. There was 
 feeling in his voice. "With Christ's help we 
 are going to make of your life what He meant 
 it to be, beautiful, and helpful, and happy. 
 You are among friends, real friends, now, who 
 will help you at every point." 
 
 "What do you want me to do, Mr. Gait ?" she 
 asked, slowly. 
 
 The tone in her voice caused him again to 
 turn. There was that in her face that satisfied 
 him now. This indeed was the penitent Mag- 
 dalen, her shame written in her cheeks and in 
 her downcast eyes and in her trembling voice. 
 
 "Service ; you must have service. You must 
 work; you want to work. There is no haste 
 just yet. The way will open when all is ready. 
 You can trust me and Mother Brown."
 
 THE FIRES OF SPRING 215 
 
 "Will it be perhaps with you?" She looked 
 up at him with tremulous eagerness. "Isn't 
 there a place " 
 
 "We can't tell now; the way will open," he 
 broke in, gently. "I think it best for you to 
 remain for a time with Mother Brown and let 
 her direct you and teach you. She has her 
 work and you can help her." 
 
 "It's a regular old prison there," she burst 
 out impulsively. "I can't stand it; I'll die. 
 I've been there a thousand years now. I won't 
 
 go-" 
 
 "Yes, you will go," he said, with patience in 
 his voice. "I want you to go. I want her to 
 teach you. I want you to learn nursing, and 
 rescue work in the slums. Oh, it is joyous 
 work this working for Him. I wish I could 
 go and plunge into it wholly, into the slums and 
 dark places and bring help to those who do not 
 know. Now you have found Him " 
 
 "Found Him ?" she repeated, looking up into 
 his face. 
 
 "Yes, you have found Him, haven't you, 
 the Christ who alone can save you and keep 
 you? Have you?" He looked always at life 
 from the standpoint of the preacher. Long 
 habit had blinded him to everything else. 
 
 "You said that for me you were the Christ,"
 
 216 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 she said, slowly, her eyes looking into his face 
 with wonder. 
 
 "No, no," he objected, quickly. "Don't mis- 
 understand me. I'm only His agent. He 
 works through me, through all His children. 
 He came to you through me. Have you 
 prayed ?" 
 
 She did not answer. 
 
 "You must, constantly, and you must 
 read the Bible, your Testament, daily. Do 
 you?" 
 
 "Yes. I keep it here, all the time." She 
 put her hand to her bosom with a quick move- 
 ment. "The one you gave me," she added. 
 "You marked it." 
 
 "That's right," he burst out heartily. "Read 
 it constantly, for it is the guide to life, the only 
 guide." 
 
 How little she knew of this Christian way 
 that she had entered ! She was a very babe in 
 the wilderness of life. A feeling of pity welled 
 up within him as he thought of it. What did 
 she know of the struggle that was to come, the 
 fighting and fears and temptations? And the 
 time was right upon her when she would need 
 all the strength that she could bring into her 
 life. She needed gentleness now, and patience, 
 and careful instruction. She must be fed on
 
 THE FIRES OF SPRING 217 
 
 the milk of the Word of God. It was his duty. 
 And so, as they flew along the streets and out 
 into the springtime fields, he opened to her in 
 the simplest words the mysteries of the King- 
 dom of Heaven. He talked as to a child, and 
 he explained and he pleaded as one who would 
 woo unto life a perishing soul. 
 
 And the girl followed him with her eyes, and 
 said "yes" and "no" in an awed sort of way, 
 and did not look to the right or the left as they 
 sped through the broad country and the wood- 
 lands, and along the meadows alive and fra- 
 grant with the early spring. 
 
 Back in his room at noon Gait felt as joyous 
 as he had felt even in the early morning when 
 he had looked out over the sunrise. He had 
 seen the sunrise in a human soul. She had 
 promised him to go back to Mother Brown's 
 and to help in any way she could. When she 
 had learned something of the work, she would 
 go under the old worker's guidance out into the 
 slums and dark places. She had promised to 
 devote her whole life to the work. He envied 
 her. What a joy it would be to go unhampered 
 into the great vineyard with no one to serve or 
 to think about save the Master for whom he 
 toiled! It had indeed been worth while to 
 rescue Isobel Carniston. The church had been
 
 218 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 wrong. What was there for Mr. Bradley to 
 say now? 
 
 So full was he of it all that he overflowed 
 with it when late in the afternoon Dick came 
 to take him to Miss Thost's lecture. Dick was 
 skeptical. 
 
 "I wouldn't tell old Bradley just at present," 
 he advised. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "The girl is versatile, Johnny." 
 
 "I tell you she is dead in earnest," he burst 
 out, almost testily. "I know it. She is going 
 to be as much of a power for good as she was 
 a power for evil. She has changed completely. 
 She is going to be a mission worker." 
 
 "Johnny, you watch out." 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 "I mean just this, Johnny : we live in a devil- 
 ish wicked world, and you make a mistake when 
 you don't keep it in your mind every minute. 
 You just keep your eyes wide open, both of 
 them." 
 
 "But what object can the girl have, Dick?" 
 
 "Johnny, look here. I'm going to tell you 
 things straight. What you need is a dose of 
 ungodliness. You are like the old maid the 
 doctor prescribed a spree for. You ought to 
 backslide for six months. Then your work
 
 THE FIRES OF SPRING 219 
 
 would amount to something. You haven't got 
 devil enough in you to run a church. Come on 
 to the lecture. I want to tell you a few things 
 about this little Queen Isobella." 
 
 "It's all useless, Dick." He arose and put 
 on his coat almost testily. "I know what you 
 are going to say. I'm not an infant. I have 
 been perfectly aware of the lure of the girl, 
 I expected it. It was but a manifestation of 
 her depraved nature. She knows no better. 
 It has been a part of her life so long that it 
 has become second nature. Any woman of her 
 class would act the same way. But granting 
 all this, that is no reason why she should be 
 thrown to perfect ruin. She is not wholly lost; 
 there's the germ of better things in her life. 
 I know it; I saw it. She's honest, Dick, now. 
 She can be saved and made a power for good. 
 I am absolutely sure of it. I am not easily 
 mistaken in a thing like this." 
 
 ''Johnny, did you ever see a man who was 
 learning to ride a bicycle ride smash into a 
 thing that was right before his eyes ?" 
 
 "I don't care what you think," Gait burst out. 
 "I'm right in this matter. My heart tells me 
 that she is won for Jesus Christ. She is no 
 worse than Mary Magdalene was, and think of 
 what a power she became."
 
 220 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "Johnny, my last word is just this: some- 
 thing's going to happen. You are going to 
 wake up with a jump and it's going to be soon. 
 Too bad, Johnny." 
 
 "Yes, you are right; something's going to 
 happen. When you put Jesus Christ into a 
 life something always happens." 
 
 "All right, Johnny, but it's a cussed shame." 
 
 And it was that very afternoon that Helda 
 Thost said in her lecture : 
 
 "The Soul comes only with Love, that su- 
 preme love that is above all death. There is 
 no soul until love broods over the life and whis- 
 pers, 'arise and be.' '
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE NIGHT OF MAY 
 
 NOTHING happened ; Dick was no prophet. 
 Isobel Carniston went to work with all 
 the zeal of a novice, and April flew into May. 
 Mother Brown believed that no one is equipped 
 for mission work without a practical knowledge 
 of nursing and that no one gets this knowledge 
 without beginning at the foot of the ladder. 
 The girl's first weeks therefore were like those 
 of every trained nurse, a revolting round of 
 drudgery from washing the floors to sitting up 
 all night ready to do errands. The old worker 
 kept constantly near her at first to advise and to 
 encourage, but there was apparently no need 
 for apprehension. The change seemed like a 
 miracle, as indeed it was. When she told Gait 
 about it he rubbed his hands and thanked God 
 and went to the girl and told her that her work 
 was gratifying him more than any other thing 
 that had ever happened in his Christian min- 
 istry. 
 
 "I am glad you like it," she had said. "I am 
 
 221
 
 222 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 trying just as hard as I can," and she had 
 looked up at him almost wistfully, he thought. 
 She was beginning to understand and it was 
 well. 
 
 "You will come often ?" she had pleaded. 
 
 "Indeed I will." And as he looked down into 
 her face he had meant it. 
 
 Eor the first time he really saw the girl. She 
 had been sweeping, and she was dressed for her 
 work in a plain wrapper that clung to her figure. 
 Her arms, plump and perfect, were bare above 
 the elbows. Her hair, struggling rebelliously 
 with the tight cap, fell in golden wisps about 
 her face and neck. There was color in her 
 cheeks, and for the first time there was soul in 
 the eyes that looked at him. 
 
 "I will come often," he said, and he meant it, 
 and he gave her his hand with impulsiveness. 
 "This is fine. You have done well. God bless 
 you." 
 
 "I am glad if you like it," she said, slowly, 
 the color deepening in her cheeks. Then she 
 stood with her broom and watched him as he 
 disappeared down the hall. He did not see 
 that, and he did not hear what sounded very 
 much like a sob. If he had, perhaps things 
 might have come out differently. 
 
 He had gone out fully resolved to visit her
 
 THE NIGHT OF MAY 223 
 
 often, every week perhaps, and even oftener. 
 She needed constant guidance and sympathy 
 and encouragement. Her temptations would 
 be peculiarly strong. Her temperament, her 
 ideals of life, and her circle of acquaintance 
 were all against her. He and Mother Brown 
 must keep her active in things that would in- 
 terest her, and surround her every moment with 
 the life that would build up and round out and 
 strengthen. By and by she would be strong 
 enough to stand by herself and even to help 
 others. The pastor certainly had meant to help 
 her, but it was mid-May when he saw her next, 
 and then it was under circumstances that he had 
 not foreseen. 
 
 Really Gait had not been to blame. He had 
 been harassed and troubled. He was not natu- 
 rally of a business turn and his years of cloister 
 life in the seminary had unfitted him still fur- 
 ther for executive work. He was a prophet 
 and a thinker, a man of the spirit, and now 
 he found himself almost as full of administra- 
 tive detail as the president of a corporation. 
 The work was going harder than it had ever 
 gone before ; every day it seemed to need more 
 motive power just to keep the great machine in 
 motion. Committee work, organizations lit- 
 erary and athletic and juvenile, social obliga-
 
 224 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 tions of a dozen varieties, all drained him of 
 his time. It was not right to compel the spirit- 
 ual leader of a people to lose himself in a mass 
 of merely executive work, he knew that, and 
 more and more he found himself in rebellion. 
 He ought to have at least one day every week 
 to himself, a day in which he might do nothing 
 save work with human souls and lead the re- 
 ligious life. Next week he would take such a 
 day. He had not been into the tenements since 
 that afternoon in March. For shame! Miss 
 Thost had been there often; the little French 
 family looked upon her now as a very angel. 
 That was Christian work; that was the work 
 Jesus would do ; but day after day there was no 
 time. It was always next week. He would 
 call on Miss Carniston to-morrow, always to- 
 morrow. The routine of his office work was 
 driving him ; the stack of letters to be answered 
 seemed to be piling higher; the institutions of 
 the church were growing daily more compli- 
 cated. Constantly something new must be de- 
 vised to stimulate the jaded activities of his 
 people, and when this device began to fail some- 
 thing new and more compelling must be sought 
 to replace it. "The work must not flag," was 
 the motto of Mr. Bradley, and he dinned it into 
 the pastor's ears. The numbers must be held
 
 THE NIGHT OF MAY 225 
 
 up in the Bible classes ; the boys' clubs must not 
 be allowed to fall off; there must be stereopti- 
 con lectures to counteract the moving-picture 
 shows; there must be a billiard parlor to keep 
 the young men from the saloons ; there must be 
 outings, and nature study classes, and gym- 
 nasium work and cooking-classes, there was 
 no end. He was forced to preach his sermons 
 at times almost without preparation. 
 
 The really bright spots in the pastor's week, 
 whether he admitted it or not, were those times 
 when he and Dick were at the lectures on Sum- 
 mer Street. That hour was his own, and he 
 allowed nothing to interfere with it. It was 
 relaxation and it was stimulus. It was like 
 leaving the tenseness and the clangor of the 
 Western market-place and entering the cool 
 precincts of the Oriental mosque where time is 
 forgotten and dreams are the realities. What 
 worlds apart were Mrs. Bailey, with her glib- 
 ness and her eager activities, and this clear-eyed 
 prophetess who sat unruffled amid the silences 
 and contemplated the human soul. His con- 
 ception of the woman had changed completely. 
 This was no vulgar exploiter of strange beliefs, 
 mouthing words she did not understand; she 
 was a living soul, the most sensitive and electric 
 he had ever known. In clearness of thought
 
 226 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 and in vision and largeness of view she sur- 
 passed him, he felt it more and more as he sat 
 in her presence. And in all the real funda- 
 mentals he agreed with her completely. He 
 was becoming tolerant even of her occultism. 
 The general tone of it rather appealed to him. 
 When one enters the realm of the spirit there 
 are no boundaries save those made by preju- 
 dice, and in the presence of her perfect tolera- 
 tion prejudice seemed vulgar and narrow. He 
 admired the clear way she stated her positions, 
 the soft beauty of her sentences which seemed 
 to him almost like poetry, the epigrammatic 
 cling of her periods, and at times the thrilling 
 sweep of her imagination, that bore him away 
 into regions that filled him with awe. She was 
 the most wonderful woman he had ever seen, 
 the most compelling personality that had en- 
 tered his life. At times she would hold him 
 with a power that was almost occult, and his 
 soul would cry out within him, "This indeed is 
 the religious life ; this is what God meant when 
 He said, 'I will pour out my spirit upon you.' 
 This is the atmosphere the soul should live and 
 grow in, and would God I might give myself to 
 it wholly!" 
 
 On the sixteenth of May the Choral Society 
 gave the little city its annual taste of grand
 
 THE NIGHT OF MAY 227 
 
 opera. Thelba sang in "Tannhaiiser," a rare 
 event anywhere, and despite the unusual rates 
 the house was full. Dick had been planning 
 about it for a month. The three were to be his 
 guests that evening; they were to surrender 
 themselves to him and think no more about it; 
 he had secured proper tickets and had made all 
 arrangements. The "proper tickets," they dis- 
 covered later, admitted them to the best box in 
 the theatre. That was Dick's way. 
 
 It was a new world to Gait. He had never 
 been in a box before, and as he looked out over 
 the brilliant house in which he seemed to be at 
 the most brilliant focus, it gave him a new sen- 
 sation. Everything was new. He had never 
 seen Helda Thost in evening dress before and 
 he had never seen her so vivacious and so alive. 
 It was not the prophetess now, it was the 
 woman. The abundance and the intense black 
 of her hair, flecked so strikingly with its white 
 strands, the olive paleness of her cheeks, the 
 droop of her eyes with their long lashes, the 
 slight figure in the black dress that sparkled 
 with her every movement as if powdered with 
 diamonds, were enough to draw attention to her 
 anywhere. The house was aware of her pres- 
 ence. Gait felt it in a sort of electric thrill that 
 at first startled and then exhilarated him. He
 
 228 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 found himself watching her every movement. 
 Her perfect ease, her poise and grace, and her 
 swift mastery of the situation at every moment 
 impressed him more and more. How sensitive 
 she was and how susceptible to every breath of 
 harmony and of beauty! The singer seemed 
 to single her out from the whole audience and 
 to play upon her soul as upon a harp of gos- 
 samer. Her eyes sparkled with passion or 
 melted with pity or danced with joy as the 
 singer willed. The soul of the artist and of the 
 woman who listened seemed for the moment to 
 be one. 
 
 "Now for the real fifth act." Dick was on 
 his feet before the final curtain had fairly 
 touched the floor. "Larry's is the climax what- 
 ever the show may be," he cried, breezily. 
 "We'll go right down. It's only a step, and we 
 can walk." 
 
 She said nothing. There was a pensive look 
 in her eyes; the illusion still lingered. She 
 arose half regretfully and allowed him to help 
 her with her wraps. 
 
 "You're coming too, Johnny." Dick was 
 full of animation ; he was the host. "I've made 
 all the preparations. I couldn't get a private 
 room, for the yellow devils cut in ahead, but 
 who cares for that?"
 
 THE NIGHT OF MAY 229 
 
 "The yellow devils?" 
 
 "Sure, and you didn't see 'em?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "And you didn't see her?" 
 
 "Her?" 
 
 "All right, Johnny. Never mind. I'm aw- 
 ful glad you didn't. Come on." 
 
 They found a table ready, with Charley in 
 immaculate dress suit bowing effusive welcome. 
 
 "Everything is jest ready, suh," he an- 
 nounced. "Jest this very minute ready, suh." 
 
 "Good. Everything is good after Wagner. 
 I call it musical assault and battery; I feel as 
 if I'd been given the third degree." 
 
 "Why, Dick," expostulated his sister, "it 
 was beautiful ; it was perfect." 
 
 "Oh, I suppose so; it's better than it sounds 
 they tell me. Wagner's the Browning of 
 music, I believe, and I haven't taken degrees 
 enough. Who was it that defined Wagner as 
 the most expensive noise of modern times ?" 
 
 There was a movement behind them, and 
 they turned to find a woman in evening dress, 
 a most beautiful woman, with marvellous 
 hair and with roses in her corsage, coming to- 
 ward them as if she were late at an engage- 
 ment. 
 
 "Ah, good evening; this is so unexpected."
 
 230 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 She bowed to them winningly, a tall figure per- 
 fectly gowned, her face radiant with pleasure. 
 There was an instant's hush, then it flashed 
 upon Gait with a bound of the heart that this 
 was Isobel Carniston. It took his breath 
 away. "May I join you, please, for a mo- 
 ment?" she asked, graciously. Dick was on 
 his feet in an instant. 
 
 "Ah, delighted,'' he said, bowing royally. 
 "Miss Thost, Miss Paine, let me present my 
 friend, Miss Carniston." They bowed stiffly 
 and then sat and looked at her. The situation 
 was unusual. "You have met Mr. Gait, I be- 
 lieve." 
 
 "Oh, certainly." She looked over at him 
 and smiled. 
 
 "Right here, Miss Carniston; this chair. 
 Charley, make a place here, lively. You are 
 just in time, Miss Carniston. I ordered for 
 five." He stood holding the chair for her. 
 She smiled at him, and then turned to a waiter 
 who was now seen to be standing behind her 
 with her wraps upon his arm. 
 
 "You may hang them there," she said. 
 "That's all ; you may go." She turned serenely 
 to Dick and took the chair. "Nothing for me, 
 please," she said. 
 
 "Sure, you want something. Just look at
 
 THE NIGHT OF MAY 231 
 
 that. Charley's got enough for ten. Of 
 course you are going to have something. An- 
 other plate, Charley." She made a little ges- 
 ture of protest, but yielded. 
 
 Gait had not spoken a word. He did not 
 think quickly at such times ; the sudden appari- 
 tion of the girl bewildered him. Across the 
 table Frieda Paine was visibly disturbed. This 
 hinted of an unknown chapter in her brother's 
 life and it seemed improper. She glanced fur- 
 tively over at Miss Thost, but she saw nothing 
 to confirm her fears. There was an embar- 
 rassing moment. Dick was busy with his 
 carving. 
 
 "I suppose you were at the opera?" he said. 
 
 "Oh, yes; beautiful, wasn't it?" The girl 
 was perfectly at her ease. It was as if she 
 had been invited as one of the group. 
 
 "Oh, yes ; fine show !" Dick answered breez- 
 ily, sawing away at his carving. "For soft 
 harmony and dreamy effects there is nothing, 
 you know, like Wagner. You were there with 
 Dolphie, I believe?" 
 
 "Yes. And I left him." Gait followed an 
 unconscious flutter of her eye and saw several 
 young men in evening dress looking at him 
 from the door of one of the small dining-rooms. 
 The whole situation came to him in a flash.
 
 232 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 She had been lured back into her old life, but 
 had broken from it at the sight of him. The 
 embarrassed look left his face instantly. She 
 had been strong enough to conquer at what 
 must have been her weakest moment. It had 
 taken moral fibre to do what she had done, and 
 it could have come only from what he had 
 taught her. He had neglected the girl. A 
 hot wave of conscience swept over him. It 
 had been almost too late. 
 
 "You did precisely right, Miss Carniston," 
 he said, with a quiver in his voice. "I under- 
 stand now." A flush sprang into her cheeks. 
 
 "But I owe you so many apologies," she fal- 
 tered. "It was rude ; I have shocked you." 
 
 "Impossible," Dick burst in, gallantly. 
 "Don't think of it. The pleasure is all ours." 
 
 "It was the only thing you could have done, 
 really." Gait spoke almost excitedly. "I am 
 glad you had the strength to do it." 
 
 Frieda Paine bent low over her plate and 
 said nothing. To her the conventionalities of 
 ^life were iron laws, and the conventionalities 
 had suffered. She did not know just what had 
 occurred, but she knew that something was 
 wrong. There was a flush in her cheeks. 
 
 Again there was an embarrassing moment,
 
 THE NIGHT OF MAY 233 
 
 and again the girl was the one to break the 
 silence. 
 
 "I think I may say that I am one of Mr. 
 Gait's parishioners," she said, addressing the 
 ladies, and then looking smilingly up at the 
 pastor. 
 
 "Why, indeed you are," he replied, quickly. 
 "You are certainly a parishioner." 
 
 "Johnny's got a big parish. All the world 
 is Johnny's parish, but there's a certain bunch 
 of women up there who think they've got a 
 fence around him." There was a droll look on 
 Dick's face. He caught Miss Thost's eye and 
 smiled. 
 
 At that moment an immaculate young man 
 appeared from behind them. He bowed to the 
 table and then turned to Miss Carniston. 
 
 "Pardon me, but you will be ready soon?" 
 he asked, in velvet tones. There was about 
 him no sign of haste or agitation. 
 
 "Thank you." She smiled up at him. 
 "Thank you for your thoughtfulness, Mr. 
 Price. I am to go with Mr. Gait. You are 
 very kind." If there was nervousness about 
 her she showed no signs of it. 
 
 "Ah, indeed. Then, good night." He 
 bowed again and went away seemingly as un-
 
 234 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 ruffled as if he were her brother solicitous 
 about providing her with an escort home. It 
 was all so natural that even those at the near- 
 est table did not look up. 
 
 "Oh, I hope I have not presumed, Mr. Gait." 
 There was a quiver in her voice. "I had to 
 dismiss him, and without making a scene. 
 Any arrangement will satisfy me." 
 
 Miss Paine bit her lip nervously. 
 
 "And you did right," the pastor broke out 
 emphatically. "I shall be glad to take you 
 home." 
 
 "Miss Carniston, you are a thoroughbred." 
 Dick was looking at her with admiration. "I 
 never saw a nervier piece of work. And you 
 knew all the time they were back there watch- 
 ing you? By Jove, I'd trust you to carry a 
 candle through a powder mill. The fellow's a 
 cad, I know him, and the whole crowd. 
 Say, I'd give ten dollars if I were where I 
 could hear him swear." 
 
 "Dick!" His sister's face was scarlet. 
 
 "Why, it would be worth it." He turned 
 to her, his eyes open very wide. "Don't you 
 get shocked at my extravagance. I'd give 
 twenty." 
 
 "It's time to go." She arose with decision. 
 
 "All right. I'll take you and Miss Thost,
 
 THE NIGHT OF MAY 235 
 
 and, Johnny, you'll take care of Miss Carnis- 
 ton." 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 The two groups separated at the door. 
 Summer Street was in the opposite direction 
 from Mother Brown's. 
 
 "I think I can get a cab just around the 
 corner," Gait announced. "We'll try it." 
 
 "Oh, we don't want any cab," she cried, 
 scornfully. "The idea ! We'll cut right across 
 the park here and save five blocks. It's only a 
 step, and it's beautiful." She took his arm and 
 struck out sturdily. 
 
 "Very well," he acquiesced. 
 
 It was indeed beautiful. The May night, 
 quivering with newly awakened life, shut them 
 in with its folds as if there were none else in 
 the whole world save them. The air was 
 warm and it steamed with the odors of the 
 damp earth and the bursting buds. And above 
 all and dominating it all smiled the soft, full 
 moon, directly in the zenith, flooding every- 
 thing with its radiance. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Gait," she burst out, with trem- 
 bling eagerness. "I want to tell you all about 
 it. I didn't mean to. I've tried just the hard- 
 est that ever I could; honestly I have. But 
 you didn't come and and nobody cared.-~-e.x-
 
 236 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 cept Mother Brown and it was so lonesome. 
 Oh, Mr. Gait, you can't understand it. He 
 came there this afternoon when I was alone. 
 I wouldn't see him I hated him I wanted to 
 kill him." She rolled the words with fierce- 
 ness. "Then he gave me roses, these roses. 
 I hadn't seen a rose before for a hundred years 
 and violets, and they seemed to craze me 
 and then he gave me this." She pointed to the 
 circlet of pearl-like gems at her throat which 
 rippled and blended in the moonlight as if they 
 were alive. Then she paused breathlessly. 
 
 "Yes. I understand," he said. 
 
 It was indeed pitifully clear. She was again 
 her old self, and the wretched crew had found 
 her again worth while. They had appealed to 
 her at her weakest point. Gait had once ex- 
 pressed to Dick his conviction that violets are 
 immodest. Their appeal, he had maintained, 
 is too strong. They have little for the eye and 
 much for the grosser sense; they are of the 
 earth wholly, of the unsunned, damp places, 
 and they appeal always most powerfully to 
 those who have the spiritual overbalanced by 
 the physical. The thing was perfectly clear. 
 To Isobel Carniston the perfume had been the 
 narcotic that had been denied to her for weeks. 
 It had awakened the past with a bound, and
 
 THE NIGHT OF MAY 237 
 
 had brought swarming upon her, eager and 
 passionate, all the sensuous world of wealth 
 and color and movement and beauty and ex- 
 citement that had been her life. 
 
 They walked in silence along the forsaken 
 path among the shrubs and hedges, their two 
 shadows blended into one black point. Then 
 they turned into the narrow path among the 
 rhododendron where a few weeks before he had 
 told her of Mother Brown. 
 
 "I didn't mean to go," she began again, 
 breathlessly, and he felt her arm tremble on 
 his. "But it came so suddenly, and I wanted 
 to see it, and I didn't realize, and now you 
 hate me I know you do you hate me." 
 
 "Hate you ! What an idea ! Why should I 
 hate you ?" 
 
 "Because I'm weak and and because I 
 went with him because " she stopped. 
 
 "But you left them; you were strong enough 
 to do that," he argued. 
 
 "It was Jim Bradley," she whispered, 
 hoarsely. "I didn't see him till I got to 
 Larry's and then he sneered at me, and you." 
 
 "At me?" 
 
 "Yes. He called you a smooth little ladies' 
 man that I was gone on, and I threw the 
 wine in his face. My God ! I wish it had been
 
 238 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 vitriol! And then you came in. Oh, Mr. 
 Gait, I'm strong when you are with me. I can 
 do anything. Oh, you won't leave me alone 
 again, will you? I'll do anything I'll go any- 
 where only only " She dropped his arm 
 with a quick movement, and then stopped just 
 in front of him. 
 
 There was a radiant look in her face that the 
 moonlight softened and glorified. She was 
 breathing heavily. So close was he to her that 
 he caught the faint perfume of the roses at her 
 corsage and felt her breath warm upon his 
 cheek. It was a vision to shake a man, any 
 man : the moonlight full upon her, bringing out 
 the glow of the pearl at her throat, the sheen 
 of the clinging silks that seemed to blend with 
 her flesh without line of parting, the roses send- 
 ing up their strong appeal, the flushed face 
 with the look upon it that comes but once into 
 the face of any woman. For a single instant 
 his heart sang wildly. Whole new areas 
 within him seemed to awake with a thrill. 
 But the Puritan who had "crucified the flesh" 
 had been too long in command. After a dizzy 
 moment he stood on guard. It was the wanton 
 nature of the girl, he reasoned, kindled by the 
 springtime and the night, and he was responsi- 
 ble for her before Almighty God. This rudi-
 
 THE NIGHT OF MAY 239 
 
 mentary human soul had been put into his 
 keeping. And what ought he to do? How 
 was he to discipline this passionate, untamed 
 creature, and bring her to see life in its true 
 light? Could it be done? Had God required 
 of him a task that was impossible? For an 
 instant he stood looking at her and thinking 
 hard. 
 
 "I knew it was so," she whispered, almost 
 like a grieved child. "You don't like me and 
 and I've tried so hard." She looked up at 
 him with drooping eyes. 
 
 "Indeed, indeed, you are wrong. I have told 
 you" 
 
 "Oh, what's the use !" she broke in, with sud- 
 den vehemence. "I don't care; I thought I 
 did, but I don't. What does it all amount to! 
 Pshaw ! What's the use !" 
 
 "Why, sister !" he expostulated. 
 
 "I have done everything you told me to, 
 every single thing," she went on, excitedly. 
 "I've given everything there is of me, every- 
 thing. There, take that and that !" In a sort 
 of frenzy she snatched off the necklace and 
 hurled it to the walk and then tore off her roses. 
 "My God, what more can I do than that? I'll 
 do anything, Mr. Gait. I don't care how hard 
 it is if you'll only just like me, if I can only
 
 240 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 be with you. I can do anything when you are 
 with me." 
 
 "No, no, it's not me," he cried, as if to argue 
 down what his heart told him she had said, 
 "it is not me that you want; it's the Christ." 
 
 "Oh, my God! It's nothing but Christ, 
 Christ, Christ," she burst out, hysterically. 
 "You can't understand, you won't. And you 
 think that ! Oh, quick I'm sick I'm faint P 
 
 She threw up her hands uncertainly and tot- 
 tered towards him. He was just in time to 
 save her from going down. As he touched her 
 warm flesh and held her to him to keep her 
 from falling, something new within him burst 
 into fierce life. Her arms had fallen about his 
 neck and now they clung, warm and passionate, 
 until her soft cheek was against his. For an 
 instant the shrubbery swam before his eyes. 
 An impulse to crush her to himself, to rain 
 kisses upon her face, her lips, her bosom, 
 swept over him like a hot wave. He looked 
 down upon her, on the full lips, the lithe figure, 
 a woman as glorious as Eve and as perfect, 
 and she loved him. He thought he heard a 
 laugh in the shrubbery near at hand, but it was 
 only the impression of a moment. He was 
 master again; the temptation had been a mad 
 impulse ; thank God, he was master ! This was
 
 THE NIGHT OF MAY 241 
 
 not love; it was mere passion. She had loved 
 many men thus. It was for him to save her 
 to rescue her from her own lower self. 
 
 "You have overtaxed yourself," he said, 
 breathing heavily. "You ought not to have 
 walked." He half led her, half carried her, to 
 a bench. "I'll get some water." 
 
 "No, no," she cried, coming instantly to life. 
 "Don't you do it. I don't want any water. I 
 wish I was dead, dead, dead! My God, and 
 I will be. Let me alone." 
 
 "Why, sister," he exclaimed. 
 
 "Don't you call me sister," she blazed, "don't 
 you do it ! Oh, I hate you. You are despisa- 
 ble; you are not a man at all. Jim Bradley's 
 more of a man. If you had only just the little 
 finger of a man you wouldn't treat me so oh, 
 my God, how I hate you. I hate you, I hate 
 you, I hate you !" With a swift movement she 
 bounded from the bench and darted down the 
 path. 
 
 "No, no, Miss Carniston. Wait a mo- 
 ment!" he called, following her with quick 
 steps. "Come back!" She did not heed him. 
 He tried to overtake her, but as he rounded the 
 corner he saw her dart in at Mother Brown's 
 gate. He stopped and for a full moment he 
 pondered what he should do. Manifestly there
 
 242 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 was no use talking with the girl in her present 
 mood even if he could find her. He would go 
 down early in the morning; he would save her 
 yet. 
 
 As he turned, a man passed him, a man with 
 an opera hat drawn low to conceal his eyes. 
 The moonlight was full upon him. That was 
 Jim Bradley. Was he going to Mother 
 Brown's? The pastor went up to the next 
 street crossing and then stopped in the shadow. 
 The young man went straight by Mother 
 Brown's. For the present the girl seemed to 
 be safe. A moment and he started for home. 
 
 At the bench in the park he stooped and 
 gathered one by one the torn roses. The neck- 
 lace he found lying where she had flung it, a 
 shimmering thing in the moonlight, but how 
 cold now and lifeless. He put it into his 
 pocket and he took the roses along with him, 
 he knew not why. In his room he sat for a 
 long time and brooded over the matter. The 
 girl had fallen in love with him, that was the 
 new phase of it. But was it love? Did not 
 that type of woman fall in love with every man 
 she came in contact with? That was the per- 
 plexing thing about the case. God had put 
 this woman's soul into his hands, but mani- 
 festly the work must be done now through
 
 THE NIGHT OF MAY 243 
 
 someone else. Further personal contact now 
 was out of the question. But what could he 
 do? For one thing he could telephone down 
 to Mother Brown the first thing in the morn- 
 ing and urge her to throw every possible in- 
 fluence for good about the girl, but something 
 else was needed. Now was the time when he 
 might use his church institutions to real advan- 
 tage. If the women of his committees would 
 only gather around Isobel Carniston now and 
 give the girl their sympathy and encourage- 
 ment, if they would but use all efforts to in- 
 struct her and stand by her and find her work 
 to do and enthusiasms to enter upon, she might 
 become not only a rescued human soul, but a 
 living power in the Master's Kingdom. But 
 the church was out of the question; he knew 
 that. Not a woman, even of his Mercy and 
 Help Committee, but would draw back from 
 Isobel Carniston as if from pollution. The 
 church did not do such work. 
 
 Then there came to him what Helda Thost 
 had spoken in one of her lectures. The words 
 were burned into his memory: 
 
 "The pastor of the modern church of the 
 cities is no longer the interpreter of the un- 
 seen, prophet, revealer, seer. That work is 
 being done now by other forces. When a
 
 244 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 priesthood of the living spirit again possesses 
 the churches they will be once more alive ; they 
 will be again active powers in the world of pure 
 spirit; until then they are clubs of congenial 
 souls with the pastor as executive/' 
 
 And he had remembered even the later com- 
 ment of Dick: 
 
 "The heart of your church, Johnny, lies in 
 the parlor and the kitchen. This is the modern 
 version: Praise God with the ham sandwich; 
 praise Him with the pumpkin pie; make His 
 praise glorious with the baked beans and the 
 hambone." 
 
 All this had cut deep. A spirit of rebellion 
 had boiled up within the pastor. As the head 
 of a great Christian church it was his duty to 
 lead and not be led. He had gone home that 
 day with a new idea. He would lay before his 
 governing body a plan for the return to the 
 spirit of Jesus Christ. He would propose that 
 the church be divided into many little bands, 
 like Paul and Silas and Barnabas, and be sent 
 out into the outlying districts to do practical, 
 hand-to-hand work as they could. His first 
 actual move had been to call a meeting of the 
 Ladies' Society to organize them into a band 
 of mission workers for the slums. The meet-
 
 THE NIGHT OF MAY 245 
 
 ing was to take place at three o'clock the next 
 day, and he was sure of a good attendance for 
 he had not only announced it publicly at three 
 different times, but he had taken the pains to 
 send each member a personal letter. As he sat 
 there rocking absorbedly in his study chair the 
 thought flashed upon him that here was the 
 first work that the committee might do. He 
 would tell them with power the story of Isobel 
 Carniston and plan with them the steps of the 
 girl's future. That would be something tangi- 
 ble; that would be work for God that even the 
 dullest could understand and appreciate; and 
 it would be sure to bring rich and abundant 
 fruit. He would begin with a talk on preju- 
 dice and work them to the point where each 
 would cry eagerly : "Here am I ; send me." 
 
 As he thought of it more and more the glow 
 came back into his life and things became nor- 
 mal again. The girl was but an incident in a 
 great campaign. He lost sight of her com- 
 pletely in his dream of the new church of 
 Christ, the church of practical, hand-to-hand 
 work for the Master of all work. He forgot 
 the roses that he had tossed aside as he had 
 entered, the roses still glorious in their physical 
 beauty, their radiant symmetry and youth.
 
 246 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 He went to bed serene of soul, but when in the 
 morning his eye fell upon the roses they were 
 limp and faded ; their sickly odor filled him with 
 disgust; and he swept them into the waste- 
 basket.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 LOVE IS THE SOUL 
 
 THE soul of Isobel Carniston, dormant so 
 long, had awakened at a shock, full- 
 fledged, imperious, and had found itself bound 
 fast. A new soul it was, joyous and radiant, 
 opening its young eyes upon heaven itself, only 
 to realize in a thrill of agony that ere its awak- 
 ing it had been damned by its body existence 
 forever to be cast out. 
 
 Which is hell. 
 
 Thus the imago is doomed mayhap by the 
 gluttonous worm in the earlier life; thus 
 the child is damned perchance by the father 
 in the life before this ; thus the sensual is ever 
 conceived and pampered and taught before the 
 advent of the spiritual, which must, when it 
 comes, pay in full all earlier debts and carry 
 into the new life every previous encumbrance. 
 
 When the love that is deathless, which is the 
 soul, came to Isobel Carniston, it came as all 
 things ever came to her imperious heart. It 
 came overwhelmingly, and it beat mightily 
 
 247
 
 248 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 upon all the barriers, even those of reserve. 
 As she had sinned, so she loved, and, as she 
 had joyed, so now she suffered. Sharp and 
 sudden had come to her the true perspective: 
 heaven had been in her hands; she had been 
 endowed as few others of her sex to win the 
 love she would; she had gloried in her power 
 and had boasted that no man might withstand 
 her will; and she had had reason for her con- 
 fidence. Yet now when had come the love 
 which is deathless and without which life is 
 death; when she had found the one man in all 
 the world, she had awakened to find herself 
 powerless. And she understood why, for now 
 she had a soul. She had built with her own 
 hands between herself and him she loved a gulf 
 impassable forever. 
 
 The awakening was like the bursting of a 
 tempest. The night after she left Gait in the 
 park she had spent in fierce rebellion. With 
 all her wild young life she pounded at the doors 
 of fate. "It must not be/' she had stormed; 
 "it shall not be," and in her agony she had 
 challenged the world and the God who made 
 her to witness the injustice that had been done 
 her. She would not yield, she would not cower 
 into silence, she would fight and curse and 
 rage and go down only after she had been
 
 LOVE IS THE SOUL 249 
 
 bludgeoned and stamped and ground into si- 
 lence. 
 
 Then had come the day of Mother Brown. 
 
 Hot and dishevelled, worn out with rage and 
 weeping, her eyes swollen and her cheeks mot- 
 tled and stained, the girl had burst into her 
 room and had buried her face in her bosom. 
 
 "I love him/' she had sobbed, wildly. "God 
 help me, I love him/' 
 
 "Why, child, what do you mean?" 
 
 "Mr. Gait, and he hates me." 
 
 "Mr. Gait?" 
 
 "Yes, and he despises me. I'm nothing to 
 him but a low woman just to be saved. And 
 I never can be, never. He draws back when 
 I come near him, as if I was a snake. He hates 
 me." 
 
 "Why, Mr. Gait doesn't hate a person in this 
 world." 
 
 "He said little children ought to be kept 
 away from me, that nothing that was decent 
 ought to be allowed to come near me, that I was 
 a plague spot." 
 
 "Why, girlie, Mr. Gait never said that in 
 this world. You misunderstood him." 
 
 "I didn't. He said it, and, my God, it's 
 true. Oh, my God! And I can't help it. 
 And it's too late."
 
 250 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "Oh, no, no, no, it's not too late; it's never 
 too late while you have life and reason. 
 There, there, poor little girlie, don't cry." She 
 gathered her into her arms tight, the tears 
 streaming down her cheeks. "It's all going to 
 be right," she whispered, the girl's cheek 
 pressed hard to hers. "Because you were 
 thoughtless a little while isn't going to ruin 
 your whole life. You are going to live a new, 
 beautiful life now, dearie, and people are going 
 to love you, and the past is all going to be for- 
 gotten." 
 
 "Oh, you don't understand it," she wailed. 
 "You just can't. I don't care what people 
 think ; I don't care what anybody in this whole 
 world cares but just him. I want him to think 
 I'm good, and he can't, never, never. It's 
 too late. Oh, I never shall hear anything else 
 again until I die but what he said, he said I 
 must see myself as he saw me, and, oh, my God, 
 I do, I do." 
 
 "But, dear one, if he could only see you now 
 it would be different. He sees with the Christ 
 eyes." 
 
 "But that doesn't make him love me. That's 
 what I want; that's what I'd give my soul for, 
 for him to love me." 
 
 "You mustn't think of it that way, dearie."
 
 LOVE IS THE SOUL 251 
 
 She stroked the soft hair that wantoned un- 
 tended over her shoulders and about her face, 
 and whispered like a mother. "That's all 
 wrong, it's wrong. You mustn't think of lov- 
 ing Mr. Gait. It's not right." 
 
 "What do I care whether it's right or not, 
 what do I care?" she blazed. "I didn't do it; 
 I'm not to blame; it came to me; and it's the 
 only thing in this whole world that I want. I 
 can't reason and I can't think and I can't do 
 anything but just want him. I didn't do it; 
 I'm not to blame. All there is for me is to die, 
 and I'm going to." 
 
 "No, no, no!" 
 
 "What else is there? I won't live," she 
 stormed. "If I was an angel he wouldn't love 
 me. It's just fate." 
 
 "Why, darling!" 
 
 "He wouldn't, he couldn't, for, oh, my God, 
 he loves another woman!" She put her hands 
 upon her face and burst into hysterical weep- 
 ing. 
 
 "Don't, little one, oh, please don't." She 
 clasped her still tighter as if the girl might 
 break away and leave her. For a long time 
 neither spoke. 
 
 "I saw it," she said, at length, her voice 
 shaking with sobs. "I know it. He worships
 
 252 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 her with his eyes, and she isn't beautiful a bit, 
 only just good. I could see it. He cares for 
 that, that's beauty to him, and he worships 
 her, and I know how he looks at me. Oh, I 
 can't bear it, I can't, I won't." 
 
 Mother Brown was silent, for she knew in 
 her soul that there is no hell like this, and what 
 can one say when one looks into hell? All of 
 tragedy centres about this culminating horror : 
 the waking of the soul too late, the vision of 
 the past as irrevocably past, the realization of 
 what might have been. Fate and destiny and 
 hell are only short ways for saying that the 
 past is forever beyond recall. Over every 
 heartbreak one may carve Wordsworth's lines : 
 
 "Nothing can bring back the hour 
 Of splendor to the grass, of glory to the flower." 
 
 And Mother Brown knew more than this, 
 that there is no birth without agony and that a 
 soul was on its way in a woman's life. 
 
 "Oh, you can't understand." The storm 
 had worn itself out by its very violence. "You 
 don't know ; you can't realize. You have lived 
 all your life so sweet and calm and good that 
 you don't know how it feels. Oh, I wish for 
 one minute you knew, only one minute " 
 
 "Wait, little one. Don't say that to me."
 
 LOVE IS THE SOUL 253 
 
 There was a ring in the old voice that silenced 
 the girl and caused her to look up quickly. "It 
 is you who do not realize. I am going to tell 
 you something that I have told to few human 
 souls. Look at me; do I look beautiful? Do 
 I look like one who would inflame young men ? 
 Perhaps I am good and sweet and calm, but it 
 isn't because I've always been so. I wasn't 
 always old and gray and wrinkled. I was as 
 fair as you are, and as full of life. I loved the 
 bright and gay things just as you loved them, 
 and I was wild, wilder than I will ever tell you. 
 I ruined young men. I didn't care, and before 
 I knew it I was in the depths that you know 
 nothing about. I suffered as you never have 
 suffered. For a year I was an outcast in the 
 streets of a great city. I cursed man and God 
 and I jumped into the river, and I would have 
 died but for the hand of God Himself. Then a 
 man like Jesus Himself he's with God years 
 ago a missionary of the streets, found me and 
 saved me as a brand from the burning. Oh, I 
 bless God that he has been so good to me " 
 she choked and broke down utterly. By a 
 swift impulse the girl caught her in her arms. 
 "Oh, forgive me," she sobbed. "I never 
 dreamed it. You're an angel you're better 
 than an angel."
 
 254 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "No, dear, I'm only a poor weak woman who 
 has been trying all her life to forget, just try- 
 ing to forget." 
 
 For a time there was silence in the room. 
 The words seemed to thrill the girl. By and 
 by she heard the old voice whispering in her 
 ear: 
 
 "Do you know, I think God sent this love to 
 you? If it is a pure love, I know He did. It's 
 sent to save you, dear one. It's the Christ 
 within him that you are in love with." 
 
 "No, no," she burst out. "It's not; indeed, 
 it's not. I want him; oh, how I want him!" 
 She looked up into the old face like a wistful 
 child. 
 
 Mother Brown did not speak. She looked 
 into the young eyes and she sighed. It was a 
 penitent woman that she saw, a woman who at 
 last had found her soul. There was hope. 
 She had learned to the full the limits of her 
 weakness and for that very reason was strong. 
 She saw more: she saw a woman who would 
 give to the man she loved everything she had, 
 even this new soul that had cost her such 
 agony. 
 
 "No, my little girl, not that," the old voice 
 whispered after a time. "You don't want him. 
 You wouldn't marry him even if he begged it.
 
 LOVE IS THE SOUL 255 
 
 You couldn't, dearie. Don't you see that all 
 your life long you would know that he knew? 
 We women can't forget. A woman may think 
 she can, but she can't. She may give her soul, 
 but she can't. There is a wound that never 
 heals and that never can be forgotten. I 
 know, for I have lived, in the world. But, 
 dearie," she breathed the words in the girl's 
 ear, "did you ever think that marriage is not 
 all there is to love ? It's the smallest part ; it's 
 the selfish part." 
 
 "But he's so strong and he makes me feel so 
 strong. I could do anything if I could only be 
 with him all the time. I'd give him all that a 
 woman ever gave to a man. I'd worship him, 
 and I'd work for him till I dropped dead. 
 When he goes away it seems as if everything 
 that is good and strong in me went away, 
 too." 
 
 "Wait a moment, dearie ; think just one mo- 
 ment. What have you got in common with this 
 man save your body, which you know has noth- 
 ing to do with real love ? How could you help 
 him ? He is educated and spiritual. What do 
 you understand of his life and his work? 
 Nothing, absolutely. Marriage with him, 
 even if you were as pure as an angel, would be 
 an awful thing. It would ruin your love, and
 
 256 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 it might ruin both of your lives. Be reason- 
 able, little girl. There is for you absolutely 
 but one thing that can help you and it has 
 taken me a lifetime to learn it and that is to 
 be unselfish and to look from yourself to others. 
 I have been through every bit of it, and I know. 
 You must forget this thing and give the rest of 
 your life to others." 
 
 "But, my God," she wailed, in utter misery, 
 "you can't argue and reason when you love a 
 man, when you really love him. You can't 
 make rules and lay down laws when love is 
 eating the very heart out of you. All that I 
 know in this whole world and all I care is just 
 that I love him, and that I would die to-morrow, 
 I'd die a thousand times if he would love me 
 just one day, just an hour; if he would look 
 into my eyes only once and tell me that he loved 
 me that he really loved me " 
 
 "No, no, no." The old voice now was as 
 cold as steel. "I mean it; you have got to kill 
 this thing. You must. It's impossible; it will 
 ruin you, if you don't. It's as hard as death 
 to do it, but there's absolutely but one way for 
 women like us, absolutely but one way. It 
 will take your whole lifetime, but you must. 
 I shall hold you. If you go wrong now, you 
 will take me with you."
 
 LOVE IS THE SOUL 257 
 
 "Oh, no, no, no," she cried, clinging to her 
 in sudden eagerness. "No, no." 
 
 "Come, little one, with me," she whispered. 
 "We'll work for Him. Come." 
 
 The girl did not speak. For a long time she 
 sat in silence while the old voice told her of the 
 only way, the way over which in darkness and 
 struggle and tears she had herself worked into 
 the light. 
 
 That night again she tossed in sleepless 
 agony. Wide-eyed she lay and heard the clock 
 strike eleven and twelve and one and two. 
 Then she arose and sat for a time at the window 
 looking into the night. The roar of the city 
 had died to a murmur; the warm air of the 
 spring night breathed in and greeted her woo- 
 ingly. By an impulse she arose, and dressed 
 herself hastily, and stole down the stairs. 
 Swiftly she glided down the side street, out 
 into the main avenue, and then into the park. 
 By the bench in the angle where twice she had 
 talked with him, she stopped and listened. 
 There was no hint of life save the rumble of 
 distant vehicles and the confused murmur of 
 the streets. 
 
 She sank upon the bench with her head, bare 
 and glorious in the moonlight, against the tree. 
 Would he come if he could know she were
 
 258 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 there, if he could know that she loved him with 
 the truest love a woman ever gave a man? 
 Would he come if he could see her now beauti- 
 ful in the night, the stain of her past blotted 
 out, a woman with a woman's soul ? It was 
 impossible. He could never come. There was 
 a wall between them, and it was forever. 
 
 And who had made that wall ? Why should 
 she be cast out? Why for a moment's sin 
 should she be damned forever without chance 
 for atonement or appeal? She had broken no 
 law of nature, and no unpardonable law of God. 
 Christ had forgiven utterly the adulterous 
 woman. And would He not forgive her if He 
 were on earth again and, if she repented, place 
 her where she might have been had she never 
 sinned? Was she not in reality as pure now 
 as ever she had been, a woman perfect phys- 
 ically, a woman magnificent in the prime of her 
 strength? And were her heart and mind and 
 soul not pure now? Had she not repented all 
 that woman can repent? If God would tell her 
 what more to do, would she not do it to the ut- 
 most? Why continue to punish? 
 
 She bowed herself upon the bench in the bit- 
 terness of her soul. 
 
 "My God," she cried in her anguish, "why 
 are you doing this to me? You are not fair.
 
 LOVE IS THE SOUL 259 
 
 I'm sorry and I won't do it again, never, never. 
 Oh, won't you take it back? Oh, God, I'm 
 only a little girl and I didn't realize I didn't 
 know. Oh, I want to be good, I want him. 
 I love him ; oh, my God, how I love him, and it's 
 impossible, impossible, and it's forever!" Her 
 voice died into a wail like a lost child's. 
 
 Oh, the pathos of it, this soul that had 
 awaked too late, this woman crying in utter 
 agony to be clean again, fallen but not defaced, 
 repentant to self-obliteration, raising her 
 stained breasts from the mud and challenging 
 the God who made her to tell why he permitted 
 such a thing to be. 
 
 And she crept back through the morning twi- 
 light unsatisfied.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE OUTSIDE OF THE CUP 
 
 THE gods always smile most sweetly when 
 they are drawing back to smite ; that was 
 Dick's philosophy. A joyous heart should be 
 a warning, he averred, and perfect happiness 
 should fill one with fear. 
 
 On the morning after the opera Gait was in 
 unusual spirits. It was the day on which he 
 was to open his campaign. He found himself 
 going over and over the arguments he was to 
 use before the committee. He would urge 
 them to begin with a summer campaign, and 
 to work with those hundreds of waifs and puny 
 little children who never leave the city limits 
 except to be buried. It would be easy to win 
 the committee on that theme. Then there was 
 the project of founding a working mission 
 among the tenements, to be carried on not by 
 hired workers but by the members of his 
 church. There could be a reading-room for 
 the boys and girls ; there could be a kindergar- 
 ten for the children whose mothers had to 
 
 260
 
 THE OUTSIDE OF THE CUP 261 
 
 work, and there could be a daily prayer-meet- 
 ing the idea grew upon him until he could 
 hardly wait for the meeting. It would be a 
 hand-to-hand battle for Christ ; it would be the 
 church at work in the field, which is the world ; 
 it would be Applied Christianity. Applied 
 Christianity, the phrase rang true. What 
 other kind of Christianity could there be? 
 
 This central ladies' society would be the one 
 to organize such a work. He could depend 
 upon it. From the first it had been his most 
 effective working-organ. With its aid he had 
 refurnished the Sunday-school room and had 
 purchased a new carpet for the auditorium. 
 Its members had always been loyal and eager. 
 "If you want the impossible done, ask the la- 
 dies' society," had become an adage in the 
 church. For once, however, they seemed to 
 have failed. At three o'clock Gait found only 
 one member. He could hardly believe his 
 eyes. 
 
 "Wasn't it three o'clock, Miss Winston?" 
 he asked. "Wasn't this the hour?" 
 
 "Yes, this is the hour," she answered, 
 sweetly. She was a black-eyed, sprightly little 
 woman, one of the most active of his workers. 
 
 "It's the weather, I suppose," he laughed. 
 "This warm, spring weather makes us all move
 
 262 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 slowly. They'll come in a moment, of course." 
 But after ten minutes not one had appeared. 
 
 "Why, I don't understand this," he said, 
 wonderingly, his watch in his hand. "I ex- 
 pected every member. I never have announced 
 a meeting so thoroughly." 
 
 "They should have come," she answered, 
 positively. 
 
 "I'm afraid there has been a mistake 
 wait, this is Wednesday, isn't it ?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," she smiled. 
 
 "I'm awfully disappointed. I was going to 
 talk over a plan for organizing work in the 
 poorer districts. I was going to tell you what 
 I had seen and what my plan of relief was." 
 
 "Yes, we know." 
 
 "Why how? Oh, I remember, I men- 
 tioned it to Mrs. Bailey. It is a work, Miss 
 Winston, that has taken a great hold on me 
 lately. Do you know, there are places only 
 a few minutes' walk from our church where 
 the children are coming up in absolute igno- 
 rance of the Gospel? It is like the jungles of 
 Africa. They ought to be reached, and our 
 people ought to do it. There ought to be a mis- 
 sion Sunday-school there, at the very least. 
 A live church is a working church. We ought 
 to be full of such activities, I felt sure that
 
 THE OUTSIDE OF THE CUP 263 
 
 the ladies' society would enter into this work 
 with their whole souls. What do you think, 
 Miss Winston?" 
 
 "I'm afraid they won't help you, Mr. Gait," 
 she answered, impulsively. 
 
 "Why, what do you mean?" He turned 
 and looked at her incredulously. "Aren't you 
 ladies in sympathy with such work?" 
 
 "Oh, don't include me, Mr. Gait," she 
 laughed in a nervous way. "I really should 
 like to do it. As far as I am concerned, it 
 would be a most delightful adventure to go 
 into the slums with you, but the others " she 
 paused. 
 
 "But isn't this the primary work of the 
 church?" he cried. "Wasn't it for just this 
 thing that the church was organized? Isn't 
 this the church of Christ, and did not Christ 
 do his work with the suffering and the out- 
 cast and the poor and the wicked, hand to 
 hand?" 
 
 "Oh, I realize it, perfectly, but well, you 
 know they say we are doing it now. The 
 North Street Church gives more per member 
 for city mission work than any other church 
 here. Why, two years ago we held a fair 
 for the Bethany Mission and cleared five thou- 
 sand dollars."
 
 264 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "But, Miss Winston, that isn't enough. It 
 needs the personal touch. Your work for 
 Christ can't be done by deputy. You must go 
 as Christ did, personally, with love and sym- 
 pathy and real help. Christ did His work 
 without any money at all." 
 
 "Oh, I am not disagreeing with you, Mr. 
 Gait." She laughed nervously. "I believe in 
 it with all my heart. I am only giving the 
 church standpoint. You ought to know it. 
 They say we have got work enough right here 
 in our church. They say the church is organ- 
 ized for mutual benefit of its members, Chris- 
 tians banded together to strengthen one an- 
 other." She hesitated and fumbled with her 
 book, nervously. "Really, Mr. Gait I think 
 I ought to tell you just what they are saying. 
 You won't take it wrong ; you won't be angry ?" 
 She laughed in sheer nervousness. 
 
 "Angry?" he said, wonderingly. "Why 
 should I be angry?" 
 
 "Because it may surprise you because 
 I should want you to do it for me, Mr. Gait. 
 It's my duty. You see the ladies, some of 
 them, think your interests are too much out- 
 side the church. That's what they are say- 
 ing." 
 
 "Ah!"
 
 THE OUTSIDE OF THE CUP 265 
 
 "To tell the truth, Mr. Gait," she went on, 
 with increasing boldness, "they say that your 
 going to those lectures on Theosophy has hurt 
 the church more than anything else for years, 
 and, then well, you've been seen with 
 world's people." 
 
 "And that is why they did not come here?" 
 
 "I am afraid it is. She is considered one of 
 the most dangerous enemies the church has, 
 that is what they think. She has drawn away 
 some of our strongest young women, Miss All- 
 ston, for instance." 
 
 He made no reply. His mind was going 
 back by leaps over the past weeks. This was 
 the reason, then, why the work had gone so 
 hard. He sat nervously rocking, as was his 
 wont when he was thinking hard. His eyes, 
 narrowed to mere points, seemed to be focussed 
 on things miles away from the little room. 
 
 "Now you won't misunderstand me, will 
 you, Mr. Gait?" she went on, watching him 
 nervously to see how he was taking it. "I am 
 only telling you what people say, and you ought 
 to know these things. It's only for your good. 
 And there's another thing " she paused in 
 an embarrassed way. 
 
 "Yes?" he said, absently. 
 
 "All the people are talking about what
 
 266 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 happened, you know, last night." She finished 
 the sentence with a little gasp. 
 
 "Last night?" 
 
 "Yes. I don't mean with Mademoiselle 
 Thost, but You wanted to know why the 
 ladies did not come, and it was my duty to tell 
 you. You don't blame me it was my duty 
 you haven't anyone to tell you such things." 
 She stopped in a sort of panic. 
 
 "We might as well adjourn," he said, sud- 
 denly. "I suppose no one will come now." 
 
 "No," she assented. 
 
 They went out of the church and down the 
 street together. In the open air the woman 
 became suddenly voluble. 
 
 "There is no need of thinking of outside 
 work, Mr. Gait," she began, earnestly. "There 
 is so much to do in the church that it almost 
 makes me sick things you know that must be 
 done. We must have new chairs for the pri- 
 mary room and new apparatus for the gym- 
 nasium and new magazines and papers for the 
 reading-room. And then there is the mission- 
 ary collection, we have never been so behind 
 on it. It is all of two hundred behind last year. 
 We have always been the largest in the city, 
 but last year you know the Ash Street came 
 within five dollars of us. Really I'll live on
 
 THE OUTSIDE OF THE CUP 267 
 
 bread and water before I see them taking the 
 lead. I hear they are working night and day, 
 and they'll surely beat us if we don't strain 
 every nerve. Then there's the pastor's salary, 
 I think we shall have to have a sale for it. 
 It has never come so hard before. Don't you 
 think a silver shower would be a nice idea? 
 They had one in the Ash Street and cleared nine 
 hundred dollars. Or we could have a fair, I 
 have heard how a church in Philadelphia had 
 an autograph sale. They sent to all the fa- 
 mous people for letters and they sold the letters 
 at auction. It was a real success. We have 
 got to do something, Mr. Gait." 
 
 She paused and looked up at him, timidly. 
 The glance seemed to reassure her, and she 
 went on with her breathless recital. 
 
 "You haven't any idea about the work our 
 ladies are doing, it always comes on a few, 
 you know. Miss Axton is positively working 
 herself sick with the reading-room, and Miss 
 Wright told me only yesterday that the sewing 
 club ought to have five women to push it instead 
 of one. Then Miss Davis has enough on her 
 hands with that boys' club to drive two women 
 insane. And there is the primary department, 
 with poor Miss Penny and the Woman's Bible 
 Class with Miss Hunt. Mrs. Smith and Miss
 
 268 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 Harness have the Herald to get out every 
 week, Miss Stearns has the cooking club, and 
 I am just running myself sick for the mission- 
 ary collection." 
 
 Again she paused breathlessly. 
 
 "I'm afraid we are doing work that isn't 
 counting for what it should," he said, slowly. 
 
 "That's just it, Mr. Gait; we need more or- 
 ganization right here in the church. There is 
 absolutely no time for slum work. We need 
 you every minute, Mr. Gait. There are five 
 families of nice people who have just moved to 
 town and we mustn't lose them. They belong 
 to our church, but they say at least I heard 
 that one of them said so that they will go over 
 to the Ash Street if you do not call on them, 
 and we can't afford, you know, to lose a single 
 member. We always have led the Ash Street 
 and we must strain every nerve not to lose 
 ground." 
 
 "But, sister, is it right to be thinking only 
 of numbers and amounts? Christ's work is 
 more than that !" 
 
 "Oh, I know. It's on my heart every mo- 
 ment ; I can't hardly sleep nights. You'll call, 
 won't you, Mr. Gait, and you'll help us make up 
 this missionary amount before the first of the 
 month?" There was a coaxing tone in her
 
 THE OUTSIDE OF THE CUP 269 
 
 voice now. "Oh, Mr. Gait," she looked up at 
 him with sudden animation. "Won't you 
 preach a missionary sermon, a real stirring 
 one? You can, you can be so eloquent if 
 you want to. Just arouse their pride. Tell 
 them of the magnificent record of the old North 
 Street, and then tell them that we are in danger 
 of falling to second place. That will arouse 
 them. Won't you, Mr. Gait? And then if I 
 give you a list of those who have fallen off in 
 their subscriptions from last year, won't you 
 call on them personally and prod them up? 
 You have to do it, you know. I'll bring it to 
 prayer-meeting this evening. Won't you?" 
 She turned a pleading face up at him and 
 smiled. 
 
 "I'll attend to the matter," he said, almost 
 curtly. Then there was silence. 
 
 At Main Street their paths diverged. The 
 pastor began to walk briskly ; his mood was tu- 
 multuous. The words of Dick, spoken weeks 
 before, came flashing to his mind : 
 
 "Johnny, remember that your job depends on 
 a little bunch of old maids. You'll hold it as 
 long as you can hold them. Keep them pleased 
 and you are all right, but lose your hold of them 
 one minute and your goose is cooked browner 
 than an oyster. You think you are working
 
 2/0 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 for Jesus Christ, but in reality you are working 
 for ten or fifteen women who are as jealous as 
 a third wife. You keep your eye on them, 
 Johnny ; when they begin to fall off that's your 
 barometer going down. And remember this: 
 prize-fighters and preachers never come back." 
 
 Suddenly the day had changed its face. The 
 pastor had caught a glimpse into the heart of 
 his church as if a flashlight had pierced it. 
 
 It sent him to his room in a tumult, his anger 
 struggling with his conscience. 
 
 But John Gait's day had only begun. 
 
 That evening after prayer-meeting the offi- 
 cials of the church held their regular monthly 
 business session. The church prided itself on 
 its practical methods. For years it had been 
 under the direct control of Mr. Bradley, whose 
 hobby was business. "A church is first of all 
 an organization," had been his constant cry, 
 "and it should be run precisely like any other 
 organization, like a bank or a department- 
 store or a railroad. Poor business is poor re- 
 ligion; and poor religion is poor business. 
 Look close to the finances; have a responsible 
 board of control ; organize the work and follow 
 sharp after the workers ; if a man won't or can't 
 do the work, put another man in his place ; snap 
 up loose ends ; cut off waste ; work every cent of
 
 THE OUTSIDE OF THE CUP 271 
 
 every fund until it is time to pay it in ; organize, 
 watch, check every weakness before it has time 
 to grow, that's business, and it applies to re- 
 ligion just as much as it does to groceries. The 
 church that does not run on these lines will soon 
 have the devil for receiver." 
 
 This was Mr. Bradley' s philosophy, and he 
 had preached it for thirty years. The govern- 
 ing body of the church he called his "board of 
 directors" until no one thought of alluding to 
 it by any other name. In all its methods he ran 
 it precisely as if it were his own bank and board 
 of directors. It was business, first of all. 
 Frankness and outspoken criticism had become 
 a tradition of the body. "Don't conceal weak- 
 ness," had been the chairman's constant cry. 
 "If you know of poor work anywhere, tell about 
 it, let it cut where it will. Don't hint and beat 
 about the bush; speak right out. The welfare 
 of the whole church is not to be sacrificed for 
 the feelings of any one man." 
 
 The pastor dreaded these meetings more 
 than anything else in his church work. The 
 financial discussions depressed him. He was 
 made aware that the salary came in small drib- 
 lets and came hard. The discussions left upon 
 him always the impression that the money was 
 given from a hard sense of duty or from a fear
 
 272 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 of Mrs. Grundy or from motives that placed the 
 pastor among objects of charity. Once they 
 had discussed the expedient of publishing a re- 
 port of just how much each member was giving 
 so that some might be shamed into giving more. 
 He never left a board meeting without wishing 
 in his heart that he might be able to say with 
 Paul: "Neither did I eat any man's bread for 
 naught; but wrought with labor and travail 
 night and day that we might not be chargeable 
 to any of you." 
 
 The frankness, too, with which they dis- 
 cussed his pastoral methods embarrassed him. 
 Their suggestions grated upon him. The de- 
 vices which they suggested for keeping up the 
 salary and the attendance and the interest; the 
 struggle to equal or excel past records in at- 
 tendance and collections and even conversions ; 
 the careful insistence upon the visiting of mem- 
 bers to keep them satisfied, all this disgusted 
 him. He longed for earnest, hand-to-hand 
 helpers in an unrecorded struggle against dark- 
 ness and worldliness, helpers who for the joy 
 of the work would stand about him and show 
 forth the beauties and the rewards of the Chris- 
 tian life. It seemed sometimes to the young 
 pastor as if it were for him to do all the spirit- 
 ual work of the church while the others looked
 
 273 
 
 on and urged him to devote his whole energies 
 to the merely material business of keeping the 
 machine in movement. 
 
 There was an unusual attendance at this 
 May meeting. The pastor noted several in the 
 prayer-meeting whose faces he had not seen be- 
 fore for a month. The "ladies' room" where 
 they held their meetings was full when Mr. 
 Bradley rapped for order. The routine work 
 went through with despatch, until the point 
 where the general condition of the church came 
 up for discussion. Then all at once for some 
 reason there came a hush so complete that the 
 ticking of the vestry clock echoed hollowly in 
 the room. Throughout the session there had 
 seemed in some way an unusual tension and ex- 
 pectancy. The pastor had been conscious of it. 
 He had wondered, in a vague way, but he had 
 quickly dismissed the matter with the thought 
 that no two meetings were ever alike. Several 
 cleared their throats nervously. Then the 
 chairman began in his incisive way. 
 
 "You all know my convictions in regard to 
 church business," he said, importantly. "Bal- 
 ance your books every day, that's my motto; 
 take account of stock every time you can ; and 
 put your thumb upon the leak two days before 
 it begins. That's business, and it applies to
 
 274 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 the church precisely as much as it does to the 
 counting-room. Now, let's balance up. As I 
 look at it we've run behind this last month in 
 every department of our church work. What's 
 the reason ? That's a business question. Mr. 
 Gait, have you noticed it, and have you any 
 solution?" 
 
 "Yes, I have noticed it," the pastor said, 
 slowly. "The work has gone unusually hard. 
 It may be possibly the unseasonable weather. 
 The last two weeks have been certainly ener- 
 vating." 
 
 "The weather has nothing to do with it. 
 We have had enervating weather before," the 
 old man said, with decision. 
 
 "Then what is your explanation?" Gait 
 asked, after a moment of silence. He had the 
 vague feeling of something impending, an 
 avalanche of he knew not what hanging above 
 him poised so that a single word might bring 
 it down, and almost in spite of himself he was 
 impelled to speak that word. 
 
 "I'll tell you, Mr. Gait, what the church 
 thinks." The avalanche had started. "It's 
 our duty to tell you. This is the clearing- 
 house; this is the family circle; this is the heart 
 of the church where we must speak right out, 
 hit where it may. If the church is suffering,
 
 THE OUTSIDE OF THE CUP 275 
 
 here is where we get at the root of the matter. 
 Mr. Gait/' there was a crackling quality to 
 his words. He came down with emphasis upon 
 certain expressions and his sentences ended ex- 
 plosively "They tell me that you have been a 
 patron of this Theosophist woman who has been 
 stirring up the town these past few weeks. 
 They say you have attended every lecture and 
 have given her your influence to help her. 
 Have we been rightly informed ?" He paused 
 impressively and looked at the pastor. 
 
 For a moment, so suddenly had come the 
 charge, Gait was unable to collect himself. He 
 sat speechless as if he had not heard the ques- 
 tion. Then he arose in a dazed way to his feet. 
 
 "Yes," he said, slowly, turning himself about 
 and facing not the chairman but the room. 
 "Yes, I have attended the greater number of 
 Miss Thost's series of lectures." 
 
 "And something like a dozen of our most 
 promising young church members have gone 
 with you, left the church? Is that not so?" 
 
 "No one has left the church ; several have at- 
 tended the lectures." 
 
 "When one begins to run after these fan- 
 tastic newnesses, he is lost to the church. 
 They are no longer a part of our body; they 
 are enemies to it." The old man crackled out
 
 276 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 the words with staccato precision like a judge 
 saying the last word as to the law. "They will 
 become certain centres of contagion;- young 
 women are peculiarly susceptible to this dis- 
 ease; it will spread through our whole church. 
 Instead of fighting it tooth and nail as Sister 
 Bailey advised you, you have encouraged it, 
 Mr. Gait. That is the first reason why the 
 work has gone hard, but there is another thing 
 that has been far more damaging. We have 
 got to be frank here ; we have got to cut to the 
 core of the difficulty, hurt whom it may. The 
 church is the supreme thing and individuals 
 are as nothing when she is concerned. You 
 will remember, Mr. Gait, that last winter I 
 warned you with all the emphasis in my power 
 against a certain piece of what you thought was 
 rescue work. I told you to drop it absolutely 
 or you would have the church on fire. It has 
 come to me that you have disregarded my ad- 
 vice, and now the town is boiling with a story 
 that will injure our church more than fifty years 
 of work will ever repair. It is common talk, 
 Mr. Gait, that you took we won't mince mat- 
 ters here a low woman to the theatre last 
 night and that you were with her at midnight 
 at a public restaurant, and then that you went 
 home with her through the park. Much more
 
 THE OUTSIDE OF THE CUP 277 
 
 than this is reported, things that I know to be 
 absolutely true but I won't repeat them. It 
 is only through the grace of God if the whole 
 matter does not get into the papers, with pic- 
 tures of the church and the pastor and the 
 woman. My God, think of that !" 
 
 It seemed to Gait as if something new within 
 him awoke with a bound. The hot blood 
 leaped into his brain and blinded him. 
 
 "Mr. Bradley," he said, in a voice that broke 
 in spite of himself. "I'm a minister of the gos- 
 pel, but I am also a man. That is an insult. 
 That that " he stopped unable to articulate. 
 
 "No insult was intended, Mr. Gait," the old 
 man answered, with perfect coolness. "Far 
 from it, sir. We are simply getting at the 
 truth of this matter for the good of the church 
 nothing else. You did not take the girl to 
 the theatre ?" 
 
 "I did not." There was a look on the man's 
 face that was new to those who sat there. He 
 stood square-shouldered and square- jawed and 
 looked them firmly in the eyes. 
 
 "You did not go with her to the restaurant?" 
 
 "I went to Larry's restaurant with my col- 
 lege roommate, Dick Paine, and his sister and 
 Miss Thost." The words came out in meas- 
 ured precision. The man was in control of
 
 278 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 himself now, but there was a dangerous light 
 in the deep eyes. "As we were sitting at our 
 table this girl came to me for protection. She 
 had been decoyed from the mission, where I 
 had placed her, by the gang that had been her 
 ruin, but she had strength enough to break 
 away from them when she saw me. That 
 gang, which has been the undoing and death of 
 at least half a dozen girls in this city, has in it 
 several of our own church members, one of 
 them, " 
 
 "Wait, Mr. Gait," the old man broke in, 
 sharply. "That's quite beside the point. We 
 are not discussing young men's wild oats; we 
 are not dealing with personalities; we are tak- 
 ing up this matter simply and solely because 
 what you have done harms our church." He 
 spoke explosively, and he made heavy gestures 
 with his right hand. "As the pastor of our 
 church, not as man but as pastor, how do you 
 explain this, that in the shrubbery of the park 
 last night you held this woman in your arms 
 and that she gave you a present of her necklace 
 and her bouquet? That is known to be a fact, 
 but the only thing that concerns us in the mat- 
 ter is that you are the pastor of this church 
 and any criticism of you is a blow at the church 
 of Christ."
 
 THE OUTSIDE OF THE CUP 279 
 
 "One moment, Mr. Bradley." The pastor's 
 thin face was full of color now. He stood erect 
 and his shoulders were very square. "What 
 you say implies things that are simply unspeak- 
 able. If the church thinks that of me then it 
 is in a position where it needs to cry in the dust 
 for mercy to Almighty God. No pastor of a 
 Christian church ought to be compelled by his 
 members to answer a question like that. I will 
 simply say this, that I conducted this woman 
 home to keep her from the clutches of a gang 
 of what I have heard even worldly men of this 
 city call Vultures/ The woman has been sick 
 and very near to death. She had been over- 
 excited and she had overdone and in the park 
 she fainted. I caught her before she fell. 
 These vultures were evidently following us; I 
 passed one of them, you know very well whom, 
 on the walk three minutes later, and I had left 
 him ten minutes before in the restaurant. If 
 there are stories about town he is the one who 
 started them, we started out with plain talk 
 and we are going to have plain talk right 
 through. I have done in this matter only what 
 Jesus Christ would have done under the same 
 circumstances, not one of you can dispute 
 that. My conscience is clear absolutely. This 
 woman's life was thrown by God into my path-
 
 280 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 way to be saved, and, with God's help, I have 
 done my best. Ask Mother Brown of the 
 Water Street Mission; she will tell you that the 
 woman is now on the road to a new and useful 
 life. She will tell you that by Christ's help 
 the woman, low as she was, has been saved, 
 and when she says that she knows." 
 
 "We'll grant you, sir, that the woman is now 
 an angel." Trie old man's face was flushed 
 now and blue cords stood out on his temples. 
 His words came out with a hiss of sarcasm. 
 "Is the saving of her worth the destruction of 
 the whole North Street Church ?" 
 
 "If the saving of a human soul that was dead 
 in sin is going to wreck the church, then the 
 sooner it is wrecked the better." 
 
 "Mr. Gait." There was a snarl in the voice. 
 "Your position may be quixotic but it is abso- 
 lutely unpractical. Do you realize what a vile 
 woman is ? You can't touch pitch without be- 
 ing denied. There is not a man in this city 
 but will tell you that that woman is a centre of 
 corruption and beyond all help. I told you 
 that. You are simply deluding yourself. You 
 are playing with fire. In spite of all your ro- 
 mantic notions, every time you are seen walk- 
 ing with such a woman you are weakening your 
 influence in this city. You are not living in
 
 THE OUTSIDE OF THE CUP 281 
 
 any Utopia, you are not sailing in a world of 
 rosy clouds, you are living in a modern city 
 which understands thoroughly this type of 
 woman. If you keep on we might as well dis- 
 band the church. Our influence is gone." 
 
 "Do you find that in the four Gospels, Mr. 
 Bradley?" 
 
 "Yes, sir, if you read the four Gospels with 
 common sense." 
 
 "Then I understand, sir, that I am to ap- 
 proach no one but respectable people ?" There 
 was a dangerous quality in the pastor's voice. 
 "The pastor of a church, then, has no business 
 to come into the presence of actual sinners ?" 
 
 "I mean only this," the old man exploded. 
 "The church simply will not sit and see you 
 walking day by day with prostitutes ; that's the 
 whole matter, and it is common sense. What 
 do you say, Brother Allston?" 
 
 "I am afraid Mr. Gait does not understand 
 city life," a thin little man piped up, feebly. 
 
 "Perhaps not, but I know Christ's conception 
 of city life." The pastor was aroused now. 
 His eyes in their deep sockets were like coals in 
 ashes that have been blown. He leaned far 
 over his seat and shook a thin finger in their 
 faces. "He did not reject the vile, or refuse to 
 be seen with them, and the church to-day is
 
 282 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 simply the modern presence of Jesus Christ still 
 in the world. If the church is not touching 
 every day, not by proxy but hand to hand, such 
 human need as this woman's, then God help it. 
 It has become simply an exclusive club." 
 
 There was a movement about the room. 
 These members had really never seen their pas- 
 tor before, and in most of them a new respect 
 was beginning to arise. The rapt spirituality 
 of the man, his gentleness, and his vision had 
 by many of them been considered as effeminacy. 
 He had been classified as an eloquent orator, 
 "strong with the ladies." Mr. Ashcraft, the 
 joker of the congregation, had once remarked 
 that there are three genders : men, women, and 
 ministers, and that he was in doubt as to which 
 of the last two Gait belonged. But as the pas- 
 tor faced them now with the wrath of the old 
 prophets in his eyes there could be no doubt. 
 
 "We need to go deeper," he cried, in a voice 
 that thrilled them. "We need the fire of Al- 
 mighty God to touch our membership. The 
 church is listening to the voice of the world 
 and it is losing its old power. Its ideals that 
 once mounted to the skies on the wings of spirit 
 are now grovelling in worldliness. The sin of 
 this woman is not alone this woman's sin; it
 
 THE OUTSIDE OF THE CUP 283 
 
 rests with mountain weight upon those who 
 brought her ruin. A woman like her is pure 
 compared with the monsters who, brought up in 
 homes that should have been full of Jesus 
 Christ, deliberately set out to compass her fall 
 though they knew it would cost her life and her 
 soul. Brothers of the Church of God, as Chris- 
 tians it is our duty to cleanse instantly these 
 centres of pollution; to put our hands on the 
 shoulders of these young men and say, 'In the 
 name of God, halt!' This woman's blood is 
 upon every one of your souls. Go home and 
 pray with your lips in the dust that it be re- 
 moved, that the spirit of the Living God may 
 come again into His church, and that the homes 
 that it represents may become as in the days of 
 the fathers centres of power for Jesus Christ. 
 Mr. Bradley, I am not serving you ; I am serv- 
 ing Jesus Christ. I shall take orders only from 
 Him." 
 
 He sat down and buried his face in his hands, 
 and for a moment there was absolute silence. 
 Then a voice that sounded strangely loud spoke 
 out: 
 
 "I move that we drop this and pass to the 
 next article of business." 
 
 There was an instant "Second." The chair-
 
 284 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 man hesitated, but a cry of "Question" decided 
 him. The motion was carried. 
 
 Ten minutes later the meeting adjourned, but 
 Gait had disappeared into the night before any- 
 one could speak to him.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 FOOTBALLS OF THE GODS 
 
 AS Gait plunged down the evening street 
 after the adjournment of the committee 
 he was in a frame of mind that was near to re- 
 bellion. He had been reprimanded by his 
 church for doing the very work for which the 
 church had been founded. He was to follow 
 Jesus Christ and at the same time he was not 
 to come into contact with sinful men. The 
 church would bind him hand and foot ; it would 
 waste his energies in trivial details; it would 
 keep him ever in an atmosphere that would 
 dampen his enthusiasm and dim his vision. 
 The spirit of revolt which had been gathering 
 for months within him burst suddenly into 
 flame. He would no longer endure it. He 
 would break loose as Christ had broken loose; 
 he would throw himself, as Christ had thrown 
 himself, unfettered and alone into the centres 
 of sin, and work with his whole soul. That 
 
 would be joy. His old dream of Christian 
 
 285
 
 286 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 work done for the Christ in Christ's own way 
 was possible yet. 
 
 He did not go to his room; he walked rap- 
 idly; his mood demanded it. The first hotness 
 of his indignation after a time subsided, but in 
 place of it there began to come an intolerable 
 sense of loneliness. The impulse to share is 
 fundamental in every human heart. The soul 
 gropes inevitably for another soul. Whole 
 great areas of the world's heartache come 
 from sheer loneliness, from a starving hunger 
 for someone who will comprehend, and sympa- 
 thize, and share. He thought of Dick, but Dick 
 had left town in the early morning to go on 
 with the great case of Vibert vs. Sewell, which 
 had been holding him for two weeks. There 
 was no one in his church who would under- 
 stand him, no one indeed in the whole city, 
 unless perhaps it might be Mother Brown. 
 He was alone as Christ had been alone. Helda 
 Thost, the thought came with a throb of the 
 heart. Helda Thost would understand. 
 
 He turned as if someone had called him. 
 It was nine o'clock early yet. He would call 
 a moment and tell her the whole miserable story 
 and ask her advice. She would understand 
 him ; she would see the whole matter with clear 
 eyes. He began to walk almost with eager-
 
 FOOTBALLS OF THE GODS 287 
 
 ness. The quiet and poise of that upper room 
 would soothe his troubled spirit and bring him 
 to himself. Once he might have debated and 
 wrestled with his conscience, but not now. He 
 needed her. 
 
 Miss Paine answered his ring. 
 
 "Why, it is Mr. Gait," she said, wonderingly. 
 
 "Isn't it strange?" Miss Thost suddenly 
 materialized out of the shadows. "I was think- 
 ing of you only this moment, Mr. Gait. Come 
 right in." 
 
 "And why is it strange ?" he asked, laughing 
 he knew not why. 
 
 "It is not." She changed her tone with 
 swiftness. "It is mere commonplace. The ab- 
 sence of it is the thing that would be strange. 
 Take this seat, Mr. Gait." 
 
 He dropped into the great chair, and all in a 
 moment the anger and the sense of outrage of 
 the earlier evening faded away as if it had not 
 been. What a contrast between the serene at- 
 mosphere of this marvellous apartment and the 
 strident stuffiness of that room he had so lately 
 quitted. Her personality seemed to pervade it 
 all like a perfume. The books that lay as they 
 had fallen from her hand, the bits of manu- 
 script, the music, the foreign-looking pam- 
 phlets, everything seemed to him to breathe
 
 288 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 distinction and feminine daintiness. She took 
 a seat very near him in the shadow. He could 
 see her only dimly, but his own face was in the 
 light. For a moment neither spoke. He was 
 surrendering himself to the spirit of the place. 
 "When we can read human souls as we read 
 books/' she said at last, in musing tone, "there 
 will be no more books. And the time will come ; 
 indeed it is here now. 
 
 'Thy soul is a book 
 And the world can look 
 
 And read, if it hold but the key/ " 
 
 "Ah, but the key?" 
 
 "Lies in every soul." 
 
 "We call it telepathy, do we not ?" Miss Paine 
 asked, intensely. 
 
 "It is more, far more. The soul is a force, 
 the most tremendous in the universe. It pene- 
 trates all things. We stand every moment in 
 fields of awful energy, with forces more active 
 than radium playing upon us. Our lives are 
 driven hither and thither by these viewless 
 powers. Devils and angels are only active 
 thoughts; and fate is only another name for 
 malignant soul. When we have the key and 
 can read these messages we shall revise all our 
 sciences. When all souls at last are completely
 
 FOOTBALLS OF THE GODS 289 
 
 in tune then will all the universe be a single 
 soul." 
 
 "That will never be." 
 
 "On the contrary, it is almost here. Who 
 told you to come to-night ?" 
 
 "Why no one," he stammered, taken off his 
 guard by the strangeness of the question. "I 
 simply came." 
 
 "I knew you would come," she said, simply. 
 
 "You knew?" 
 
 "I knew: And shall I tell you more ?" 
 
 "Yes," he said, faintly, his eyes on the dim 
 outline of her face. 
 
 "You are at a crisis in your work, is it not 
 so ? You are in revolt against the spirit of your 
 church. They are unspiritual ; they are bound 
 by tradition and convention. They hold you to 
 limits that cramp your soul and fetter your 
 hands. When I called you " 
 
 "When you called me ?" 
 
 "Yes. Your soul was crying, 'I will break 
 loose ; I will go into the streets and work with 
 the fallen.' Is it not so?" 
 
 "And I meant it," he said, as if she had been 
 present with him the whole evening. "The 
 only reason why the church was founded at all 
 was to do just those things that they reproved 
 me for doing. A pastor must be an exemplar
 
 290 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 of Jesus Christ and nothing else. 'These 
 things have I done to be an example to you/ ' 
 
 "Ah, I fear, Mr. Gait, that the church no 
 longer leads in the life of the spirit." She 
 looked at him almost reproachfully. "It does 
 not seek prophets now; it seeks advocates to 
 defend against critics and echoes to repeat the 
 beliefs of the membership and entertainers to 
 make church-going worth while and executives 
 to keep moving its social system. There is no 
 longer direct vision. Is it not so?" 
 
 He did not answer. He sat back in his chair 
 and tried to look into the shadows where she 
 sat like a prophetess looking into his soul. 
 
 "Nevertheless, do not leave them, Mr. Gait," 
 she said, slowly. 
 
 "But they fetter me," he cried. "They tie 
 my hands." 
 
 "If the church is dark there is all the more 
 reason for you to illumine it. Work where you 
 are. Anyone can run away." 
 
 "But they keep me ever on the lower levels." 
 
 "Think not of yourself; think of them," she 
 whispered. 
 
 "I know," he pleaded, "but it is impossible 
 to do my best there." 
 
 "It is not impossible," she said, softly, "not 
 with you. You are a prophet, Mr. Gait. Of
 
 FOOTBALLS OF THE GODS 291 
 
 all the souls I have ever met yours is the most 
 sensitive. You have helped me; you will help 
 them. Compel them to see; lift them into the 
 larger life, the soul life, it is within you. I 
 know it, T, you, and God can understand each 
 other/ 'God has a few of us whom he whis- 
 pers in the ear.' It is for me, for you, to bring 
 vision, not to someone indefinitely far away, 
 but to those who are nearest to us now, your 
 church, your officials, your dullest soul. It is 
 only thus that the kingdom of soul is to be en- 
 larged and the day brought near when the uni- 
 verse is but a single soul. Let the world buzz 
 on; it cannot ruffle us unless we will, and we 
 may bring it a vision. Do you know Abt 
 Vogler, I mean the soul of it? Let me read 
 it." She opened a book that lay at hand and 
 began with fullness the resonant monologue : 
 
 "Would that the structure brave, the manifold music 
 I build." 
 
 He listened breathless. The reading brought 
 a new tone into her voice, a deep alto that 
 swelled with the music of the verse and brought 
 out to the full its ringing cadences. It seemed 
 to him that he had never heard the poem until 
 now; it thrilled to his finger tips. As he sat 
 and watched her, her face aglow with the mes-
 
 292 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 sage of the poet, it came to him like a discovery 
 that she was the rarest personality he had ever 
 known, a woman of true heroic mold, mentally 
 and spiritually, a Heloise or a Hypatia, com- 
 pellingly and daintily feminine. How clearly 
 she saw beyond the range of his seeing and 
 shook him and thrilled him with her vision! 
 When she had finished he sat silent, the spell of 
 her voice strong upon him. 
 
 "It ends with the whole organ in full voice," 
 she said, tremblingly, after a tense moment. 
 "What a burst of triumph : 
 
 " 'Therefore to whom turn I but to thee, the ineffable 
 Name?'" 
 
 "A climax indeed !" he echoed. 
 
 "O Miss Helda, read us that from Yeats," 
 Miss Paine spoke up eagerly. "That poem you 
 quoted last evening : 
 
 'I could make you ride upon the winds, 
 Run on the top of the disheveled tide 
 And dance upon the mountains like a flame.' " 
 
 When Gait went home an hour later the 
 struggle and the bitterness of the early evening 
 were as far away as if they had never been. 
 Truly are we footballs of the gods. Another
 
 FOOTBALLS OF THE GODS 293 
 
 battle was raging now in the pastor's soul, one 
 that had nothing whatever to do with Mr. 
 Bradley or the Board or the North Street 
 Church. He had seen Helda Thost. Sud- 
 denly, as if a flood gate had opened, there had 
 surged upon him the knowledge that he loved 
 this woman, that he had loved her from the 
 first moment he had ever seen her. It swept 
 over him like a torrent; it filled him first with 
 joy and then with fear and then with misgiv- 
 ing. It was impossible of course that a woman 
 like her should ever think of any man in terms 
 of mere love. To her he was only a soul. And 
 yet had she not called out to him across the 
 night as he had wandered in bitterness of heart, 
 and had he not heard her ? Had she not called 
 him the most sensitive soul that had ever 
 touched her life, and had she not said, 'I, you, 
 and God can understand each other' ?" 
 
 In the first rapture of it his heart beat fast. 
 What more could there be of joy than to be 
 forever in the presence of that serene soul, to 
 hear the music of her voice, and to listen as she 
 talked of the meaning of life? Had they not 
 been mated by God Himself, not two kindred 
 souls, but one soul that had been parted and 
 that now was to be no longer two but one? 
 That was her philosophy of the soul.
 
 294 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 It was impossible. The Puritan within him 
 awoke into fierce life. Even if the miracle 
 should come and he should find that she cared 
 for him, it was impossible. A man even at the 
 call of love does not all in a moment throw over- 
 board the training and the ideals of his whole 
 life. By his church this woman was consid- 
 ered a positive enemy. From every churchly 
 standpoint union with her was inconceivable. 
 In reality she was a pagan and the disseminator 
 of paganism. She was stronger than he; her 
 personality was more compelling ; should he be 
 with her long he would inevitably lose his vision 
 of Jesus Christ and all the ideals that clustered 
 about that marvellous experience at Northfield 
 in the long ago. It was impossible. And yet 
 was it impossible? Thus he struggled and 
 argued and hoped and feared. A man really 
 in love does not argue: he acts, blindly, irre- 
 sistibly. But when as with Gait conscience 
 through long nursing has become abnormal, 
 and introspection has become the habit of the 
 life, the rule does not apply. 
 
 A knock at the door at eleven sent him into 
 a flutter. There had been a time, and that not 
 long before, when such a knock late at night 
 would have aroused only curiosity in the pastor, 
 but life had become complex of late. Before he
 
 FOOTBALLS OF THE GODS 295 
 
 could speak the door was burst open and Dick 
 came puffing in as if after a run. 
 
 "Why, Dick, I didn't know that you were to 
 get back as soon as this." 
 
 "Why, we got 'em, Johnny. We won out/' 
 he called, boyishly. 
 
 "Won out?" 
 
 "Yes, the Vibert case. The jury came in 
 just an hour ago. I got the wire on my way 
 up. Thought you ought to know it; great old 
 fight, Johnny." 
 
 "Why, then I congratulate you." 
 
 "By Jove, you ought to, Johnny. It was 
 pulling the old man right out of the fire. He 
 didn't have any case, and at one time I wouldn't 
 have given ten cents for his show, but we just 
 had to win. It was up to us, you see." 
 
 "I haven't seen you for two weeks, Dick. 
 Take a chair. It seems good to have you 
 here." 
 
 "You won't see me for two weeks more. 
 Another case coming right on and it's a corker, 
 VanHorn vs. VanHorn, divorce case and 
 money no object. Watch me, Johnny; it's 
 going to be a hot old time. After that I am 
 going to take a vacation. When are you going 
 to take yours ?" 
 
 "I am not going to take any, Dick."
 
 296 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "Hello-o-o! What's this?" He jerked the 
 match stump into the wastebasket and" looked 
 sharply at the pastor through the first white 
 puffs of smoke. "Why, you're looking like the 
 devil, Johnny. What's struck you?" 
 
 "Nothing, Dick; my health was never bet- 
 ter. It's possible perhaps that I may have been 
 working a little hard of late." 
 
 "Pshaw! Nonsense! Work never killed 
 anybody. It isn't a woman, is it?" He took 
 out his cigar and looked at Gait critically. 
 "Know how I Sherlocked that? Very simple, 
 my dear Watson. A young fellow like you gets 
 short-circuited for just three reasons: off his 
 diet, money friction, a woman. You've denied 
 the first; the old North pays its bills, there- 
 fore. See, Johnny ? Now the question is, who 
 is it and what's the trouble ? 'Fess up, Johnny. 
 Cussed old maid down there I'll bet my hat. 
 Oh, they've been after you for a year with all 
 the tackle known to the sport. I've seen it and 
 I've warned you. Or say, perhaps the Queen 
 Isobella romance has reached a new chapter. 
 The girl's versatile, Johnny." 
 
 "Yes, it has reached a new chapter," the pas- 
 tor said, absently. 
 
 "Ah, it's coming. Go on, Johnny. It's just 
 what I thought."
 
 FOOTBALLS OF THE GODS 297 
 
 "There's really nothing to tell." 
 
 "Out with it, Johnny. But say, I'll bet I can 
 describe the whole play. It's plain as daylight. 
 Old Bradley's worked a flying tackle on you; 
 he heard about that affair down to Larry's last 
 night and got through ten yards. Is that 
 right?" 
 
 The pastor nodded. 
 
 "And he slammed you down so they had to 
 call time." 
 
 "He reproved me before the Board, but really 
 I suppose I was indiscreet in the matter." 
 
 "Oh, damn! pardon me, Johnny." He 
 brought his feet down hard from the chair rung 
 and turned upon Gait. "Did you tell that 
 board that Jim Bradley is the leader of this 
 thing?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Oh, thunder! Johnny, you make me sick. 
 And you didn't serve notice then and there that 
 you were going to turn him out of the church 
 in fifteen minutes and Mayor Rice's son, and 
 Anson Blake?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Johnny, it's just as I said, you haven't got 
 hell enough in you to run a church." 
 
 "What good would it do, Dick?" 
 
 '"Good? Good? Say, Johnny, words fail
 
 m 298 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 me without drawing on a vocabulary you don't 
 approve of." 
 
 "Don't draw on it, Dick." 
 
 "Johnny, the difference between a minister 
 and a man is right here ; insult a man and he'll 
 knock you down ; insult a minister and he'll go 
 home and brood over it three weeks and do 
 nothing. You lack action, Johnny; you sit 
 humped up too much over that desk and theo- 
 rize on life. You want to wake up and get into 
 every play. You want to go down to your 
 church and turn out thirty members to-morrow 
 no matter what their pull is. For God's sake 
 don't sit and analyze and argue and brood ; get 
 into the line and buck like Teddy R. I'll bet a 
 dollar, Johnny, if ever you fall in love with a 
 woman instead of going right straight to her as 
 a man does you'll sit in your study a month and 
 debate the matter, and then wake up to find that 
 she married a man. What do you care what 
 they think; do your work, and let 'em buzz." 
 
 "That's just what she told me," he mur- 
 mured, absently. 
 
 "She?" 
 
 "Miss Thost gave me almost that same ad- 
 vice. She said, 'Let them buzz; they can't 
 ruffle you unless you will/ But it is hard,
 
 FOOTBALLS OF THE GODS 299 
 
 Dick, to accomplish anything under such cir- 
 cumstances. It's different in business ; you can 
 compel men there and force your policies, but 
 in the church you -have to lead men. All you 
 can do is to call, and if they do not follow you 
 have no redress. The moment the membership 
 loses confidence in the pastor, the church be- 
 gins to decline, and there is no way to force 
 it up." 
 
 "You went to Miss Thost?" Dick was eyeing 
 the pastor sharply. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "After the meeting of the Board?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And you told her all about it, talked it all 
 over?" 
 
 "Why, yes, she asked me about it I couldn't 
 help telling her " He stopped with the sen- 
 tence unfinished. 
 
 "Well, I'll be" Dick arose, flipped his 
 cigar into the fireplace, and went to the window. 
 For a time there was silence in the room. Dick 
 was the first to speak. / 
 
 "This is a queer world, Johnny," he said, 
 slowly. "Demnition queer." 
 
 "What do you mean, Dick?" 
 
 "Nothing. Good night."
 
 300 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "You are not going, Dick? Why, what's 
 your hurry ?" 
 
 The man did not answer. He closed the 
 door accurately behind him and was gone into 
 the night.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE ETERNAL TWO 
 
 GALT had the rare gift, by some called 
 weakness and by others strength, o see- 
 ing the standpoint of the other side as clearly 
 as he did his own. Sometimes he thought he 
 saw it more clearly. He was therefore no 
 fighter. It was not in him to take the lead in 
 any struggle and push it to an uncompromising 
 end, for to be a powerful leader one must be 
 convinced that the other side is utterly wrong. 
 His first rule in any case of controversy was 
 to put himself, as far as his imagination would 
 allow him, in the other side's position and to 
 view the case calmly from this standpoint. He 
 did this now. 
 
 After Dick's steps had ceased to echo down 
 the corridor he began slowly to pace the room, 
 his hands deep in his pockets. The church was 
 right. He had betrayed his trust; he had en- 
 couraged militant forces against God's people 
 and had led weak ones of the flock into positive 
 error. And now like a fool he had become in- 
 
 301
 
 3 02 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 fatuated with this woman, this priestess who 
 professed to have something better than the 
 church of Jesus Christ. "Other foundation 
 shall no man build save that which is built 
 which is Jesus Christ." No wonder they had 
 rebuked him. And yet . Hour after hour 
 he had argued and agonized and prayed, but 
 as the morning broke and the robins began in 
 the park maples he had won. The morning 
 had restored his soul. He had torn this woman 
 from his life. He would see her no more. He 
 would be true to his first love, the Church of 
 Jesus Christ ; he would throw his whole life now 
 into her work ; he would take Dick's advice and 
 hereafter lead his people with power ; it should 
 now be his one aim to lead them from the wil- 
 derness of dead churchism out into the vast 
 places of the soul, out into a full and working 
 knowledge of Jesus Christ. 
 
 While he was yet on his knees with the morn- 
 ing twilight on his face he had chosen his text 
 for the Sunday sermon ; before breakfast he had 
 planned the complete outline, a Savonarola 
 sermon that was to be his declaration of 
 independence. He would begin with vigor. 
 Henceforth he would lead his church. 
 
 The news that he had defied Alderman Brad- 
 ley before the open meeting and had compelled
 
 THE ETERNAL TWO 303 
 
 the Board to support his position, aroused the 
 church as nothing had done before for years. 
 At last they had a leader. On Sunday morn- 
 ing the audience room was packed to the doors, 
 and those who had come for sensation received 
 it. He told them what he had done, and then 
 with power he defended his position. He be- 
 gan by outlining the sphere of the church. 
 With increasing earnestness he dwelt upon its 
 holy fundamentals, its glorious history, its im- 
 mortal roll of heroes, its radiant possibilities. 
 Then he traced the causes of its decline in 
 power. 
 
 "Come out from among them and be ye sepa- 
 rate," he cried. "Be holy, saith the Lord, as I 
 am Holy. There is no other standard for the 
 church of Jesus Christ. But now, God help us, 
 we are losing the heavenly vision. It has come 
 to the point where true seekers after spiritual 
 truth, bow blindly at non-Christian shrines, or 
 bow not at all. God is still God, and if He be 
 ruled out of the church He will still be found. 
 We are losing the heavenly vision. We are di- 
 vided into camps that outlaw and anathematize 
 each other. We waste our energies upon that 
 which is not spiritual bread. We have erected 
 church machinery that absorbs all the power. 
 Back to Jesus Christ," he cried, his eyes ablaze,
 
 304 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 his face flushed with the fires of the old proph- 
 ets. "Back to the simple godliness of the 
 fathers ; back to the faith that will not shrink, 
 that will suffer and toil and work with the poor 
 and the sinful and the lowly, and that will look 
 up through self-denial and struggle into the 
 smiling face of God." 
 
 That was the key to the work of the next two 
 weeks. He threw himself completely into his 
 task. He brought new vigor into his prayer- 
 meeting and his Bible Class; he called on each 
 one of his influential members and ended each 
 call with prayer; he worked upon his sermons 
 far into the night, every moment he used to 
 the utmost. And the church began to respond ; 
 the committees began to rally about him again. 
 His rebuke, they whispered among themselves, 
 had done him good. It had waked him up. 
 His trouble after all had been only a lack of 
 knowledge of city life, and now his eyes were 
 open. After all he had real fighting blood in 
 him, and he was a man. His stand before the 
 board had made friends for him, friends of 
 many who before had considered him goody- 
 goody and effeminate. 
 
 The audiences continued to fill the church. 
 But there was electricity in the air. Mr. Brad- 
 ley and his circle were full of smoldering anger.
 
 THE ETERNAL TWO 305 
 
 As yet he had said nothing, and, to those who 
 knew, the silence was ominous. Fires were 
 smoldering. And there were other fires of 
 which the church has no suspicion. The love 
 that had awakened so imperiously at the sound 
 of a voice was not a thing to vanish at the mere 
 bidding of reason or even as an answer to 
 prayer. It was not to be smothered out by the 
 heaping on of work, or to be kept down by a 
 deluge of Bible texts, or starved out by a keep- 
 ing away from even the suggestion of its object. 
 The battle seemed to grow fiercer after every 
 victory. He could hold his ground only by liv- 
 ing a day at a time, an hour at a time, not 
 daring to look ahead a moment; and as he 
 fought, the better element of his church board 
 were whispering of the potency of their single 
 reproof and rubbing their hands in approval of 
 their wisdom, unconscious that their every act 
 for a year had been weakening the man for the 
 struggle that was to be the crisis of his life. 
 
 It was mid June when one Friday evening he 
 found among his mail an unusual little envel- 
 ope. He held it in his hand curiously. He had 
 never received a letter just like it before. The 
 stationery had a foreign look and the hand- 
 writing and the seal were wholly strange, an 
 inscription in what seemed to be Sanscrit. This
 
 306 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 must be his heart fluttered suddenly in his 
 throat; his hand trembled a little as he cut the 
 envelope. It was from Helda Thost. He had 
 never seen her writing before. How like her it 
 was, distinctive, daintily feminine ! 
 
 "DEAR MR. GALT : 
 
 "I am writing this hastily to bid you good- 
 by. I have closed my lectures and shall leave 
 for Boston this afternoon. On Tuesday I sail 
 for Liverpool. I was surprised and pained that 
 you did not finish the course. You had helped 
 me; I felt that you could understand, and it 
 kept me ever at my best. I trust that you will 
 not wholly forget our studies together and that 
 some time we may be able to look deeper into the 
 life of the soul which it is the work of both of 
 our lives to reveal. Again bidding you good- 
 by, I wish you 
 
 "God speed in your soul's life. 
 "HELDA THOST." 
 
 He read the note twice over and then began 
 to pace the floor. What could have brought a 
 sudden move like this? She had said nothing 
 to him about closing her lectures. Somehow it 
 had seemed to him as if they might go on al- 
 ways, and that he might, if he wished, resume 
 the course at any time.
 
 THE ETERNAL TWO 307 
 
 "Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday," he 
 counted. The boat would doubtless sail Tues- 
 day noon. But perhaps she would sail from 
 New York. Automatically he pulled out his 
 watch : ten-thirty Friday evening. Then again 
 he paced the floor with nervous steps. 
 
 He had reached the crisis of his life. He 
 loved this woman; with all the strength of his 
 soul he loved her, there was no escaping it. 
 It was useless to blind himself. He loved this 
 woman who to his church was very Antichrist, 
 an adventuress, a denouncer of all that his life 
 thus far had stood for. Love could mean only 
 marriage, and marriage with this woman 
 would mean an utter break with his church. 
 And even if they did allow it, she was fitted in 
 no way to be a pastor's wife; she was out of 
 sympathy with every duty connected with such 
 a station. She held her own ideas with te- 
 nacity. Her religion was her profession, her 
 life. She would never surrender it or modify 
 it; indeed she had once said that the ideals of 
 his church were pitifully small and narrow com- 
 pared with those that she professed. If there 
 were to be yielding it would be he who would 
 yield. And in the face of all this he loved her ; 
 there was no escaping the tremendous fact 
 that he loved her.
 
 3 o8 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 Up and down the floor he paced, his hands 
 behind his back, his head bent low. He heard 
 the clock strike twelve and one, and still he 
 paced restlessly back and forth. He went out 
 on the balcony upon which his room opened 
 and stood for a time in the cool night air ; then 
 he went in, threw his Bible open at random 
 and put his finger blindly on the page: "Thy 
 faith hath saved thee; go in peace." The 
 passage made his heart beat faster. It seemed 
 for the moment like the voice of God. 
 
 Why should he renounce this woman whom 
 he loved? She was worthy. She was a 
 woman above any who had condemned her, 
 sweet-souled, beautiful, and other-worldly be- 
 yond all whom he had ever known. Her very 
 presence uplifted him. To be with her always, 
 this radiant, spiritual woman, how it would lift 
 and ennoble him ! She would bring out all the 
 best that was within him ; they would work to- 
 gether, soul and soul, and rise together, and 
 understand each other in the harmony of union. 
 That poem of Edwin Arnold's, it had burned 
 itself into his brain: 
 
 "Somewhere there waiteth in this world of ours 
 For one lone soul another lonely soul, 
 
 Each chasing each through all the weary hours, 
 And meeting strangely at some sudden goal,
 
 THE ETERNAL TWO 309 
 
 Then blend they, like green leaves with golden flowers, 
 Into one beautiful and perfect whole. 
 
 And life's long night is ended, and the way 
 Lies open onward to eternal day." 
 
 "O my God, my Christ," he cried upon his 
 knees, in agony of supplication. "Show me 
 what to do. If my love is wrong, tell me so 
 now, and I will surrender it, I will crucify it, 
 I will tear it out of my heart if it tears away 
 my life." 
 
 And again as the morning broke he won the 
 battle. Utterly spent, he threw himself into 
 his bed and it was seven when he awoke. Au- 
 tomatically he went to breakfast and then 
 sat down at his desk. He would complete 
 his sermon. But the first paper that his eye 
 fell upon was her letter, open as he had thrown 
 it down the evening before. He read it 
 straight through, and then arose to his feet 
 with decision. Without a moment's hesitation 
 he took his pocketbook from a drawer, closed 
 his desk and locked it, threw his Bible and a few 
 clothes into his hand-bag and left the room. 
 
 At nine o'clock when he started for the rail- 
 road station there was no trace of struggle. 
 He had passed a busy hour. He had got into 
 communication with a seminary student who 
 would take his work on Sunday, he had tele-
 
 310 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 phoned to Mr. Bailey, secretary of the Board, 
 that he had decided suddenly to leave town for 
 a day or two, but that he had provided for his 
 work, and now he had ten minutes in which to 
 catch his train. 
 
 There is no one who has not at some time 
 been swept along by an impulse that seemed 
 irresistible. To Gait it was as if a voice had 
 called him and he had obeyed it blindly and ab- 
 solutely. It was like that night when he had 
 stopped on the street and then had walked 
 eagerly to Helda Thost's. And she had told 
 him then that she had called him. Perhaps she 
 was calling him now. 
 
 And as he walked through the June morning 
 a great joy seemed to burst upon him. Why 
 had he hesitated at all? He was answering 
 one by one his questions of the darkness with 
 a sort of wonder at their simplicity. Why 
 had he fought himself and wasted a night's 
 sleep as if he had been meditating a crime ? It 
 was no sin to love a woman and to woo her 
 with his whole soul and to win her if it were 
 possible. Dick had been right; conscientious- 
 ness had become with him a disease. When 
 one loves a pure, true woman with his whole life 
 and soul there is only one thing that is possible. 
 He had been fighting the empty air; he had
 
 THE ETERNAL TWO 311 
 
 been wasting precious time. It was not too 
 late even now ; he would win her yet. He felt 
 like shouting aloud, his spirits in the blue like 
 skylarks. For all things, indeed, are bright 
 and possible and altogether desirable when 
 one is twenty-nine and loves a lady fair and 
 goes wooing her on a June morning. 
 
 "Good morning, pastor." He started al- 
 most guiltily. "Travelling, this morning?" 
 It was Mr. Crawford of the Board, one of the 
 Bradley sympathizers. 
 
 "Why ah yes. I'm going to Boston." 
 
 "Someone sick or dead?" 
 
 "Oh, no, indeed, private business. But I 
 have made arrangements for the service to- 
 morrow. I have communicated with Mr. Bai- 
 ley." He pulled his watch out nervously. 
 "But I must catch my train." 
 
 He hastened away almost rudely. Somehow 
 within the moment the day had changed its 
 face. His little explanation hurt his con- 
 science. He rushed into the station, bought 
 his ticket, and reached the platform just as the 
 conductor was waving his hand to start. The 
 car was well filled. He cast a searching glance 
 over the crowded seats and suddenly found 
 himself looking down into the eyes of Isobel 
 Carniston. She seemed to recoil from him
 
 312 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 as from a blow and her cheeks flushed scarlet. 
 Then she turned in confusion to look out of the 
 window. 
 
 "Why, Miss Carniston, this is a surprise," 
 he exclaimed. "I had not thought to see you. 
 Shall I share your seat?" 
 
 "Yes," she said, faintly. 
 
 "You are well?" 
 
 "Very well, thank you." 
 
 "And Mother Brown is well?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 He looked at her curiously. She seemed 
 confused and diffident; she kept her face from 
 him, and spoke in a constrained voice. 
 
 "Are you travelling far?" he asked, after a 
 silence. 
 
 "To Boston." 
 
 "Indeed! I am going to Boston, too. You 
 return, I suppose, to-night?" 
 
 "I am never going to return," she burst out, 
 harshly. 
 
 "Ah!" What had happened? There was 
 bitterness in her voice, and her whole manner 
 had been different from anything he had seen 
 in her before. She still kept her face turned 
 from him, but he could see the flush on her 
 cheek. "Never going to return?" he echoed. 
 
 "No."
 
 THE ETERNAL TWO 313 
 
 "Why, what do you mean, sister?" 
 
 She did not answer. 
 
 "Does Mother Brown know this?" He 
 leaned toward her to look into her face. Some- 
 thing had happened. 
 
 "No." 
 
 "You ran away without her knowledge?" 
 
 "I am no child," she said, with painful dis- 
 tinctness. "I decided to go to Boston and I 
 am on my way there. That is all." 
 
 "But why do you go to Boston ?" He leaned 
 far over and whispered the words intensely in 
 her ear. A feeling almost of consternation 
 came over him; he was responsible for this 
 woman, and she had almost escaped him. 
 
 A hot answer evidently came to the tip of her 
 tongue, but she thought better of it and said 
 nothing. 
 
 "You are going to work ?" 
 
 "I don't know what I am going to do." The 
 words came out impetuously. "And I don't 
 care. I can find something to do. I always 
 have, and it doesn't make the slightest differ- 
 ence to me what it is." 
 
 "Why why, what has happened?" He was 
 looking at her with wide eyes. He was sitting 
 very close to her now, his hand on the seat in 
 front as if she might elude him. Plainly he
 
 314 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 had come in the very nick of time. He had 
 almost lost her. But for this accident, or this 
 guiding of God, he would never have seen her 
 again. 
 
 "Nothing whatever has happened save that I 
 am going to Boston/' she said, accurately. 
 
 "But you were at the Mission I had thought 
 of you as learning " 
 
 "You had thought nothing about it." 
 
 "Indeed, Miss Carniston " 
 
 "You cared nothing about it." There was 
 the harshness in her voice that he had heard 
 on that first night that he had known her. 
 "You could have helped me, but you didn't. 
 You knew perfectly well they would be after me 
 every moment; you knew they would send me 
 flowers and presents and write to me and come 
 after me with automobiles, and you never came 
 near me, and you never helped me. And you 
 say you thought of me. Pshaw!" 
 
 "You are right," he cried, a great light 
 breaking over him. "I've done wrong; I've 
 neglected you; I see it now. God help me, I 
 didn't realize ; I never once thought they would 
 still trouble you. But I have had my own 
 troubles, sister." He bent over her in his ear- 
 nestness, a great tenderness in his voice. 
 "God knows I have cared, but my work has al-
 
 THE ETERNAL TWO 3*5 
 
 most overwhelmed me. I, too, have been trou- 
 bled, deeply troubled." 
 
 She did not speak. The anger had swept 
 from her face like a shadow. She looked up 
 at him with a swift glance, and then fell to 
 fumbling with her gloves in her lap. 
 
 "You" will go back now, won't you?" he 
 pleaded. "You won't go to Boston now, will 
 you?" 
 
 "Yes," she answered, faintly. 
 
 "Promise me you'll go back to Mother 
 Brown's," he urged with intenseness. "We 
 can't have you lost in Boston, or anywhere. 
 We want you with us where we can help you 
 and we'll help you just all that's in our power, 
 indeed we will. Promise me." 
 
 "I can't go back," she said, looking up ap- 
 pealingly and then dropping her glance again 
 into her lap. 
 
 "Why can't you?" he cried. "Is it because 
 you must get away from them? Is it?" In 
 his earnestness he had forgotten that there 
 were others in the car. 
 
 "Yes," she said, softly. 
 
 "Good morning, Mr. Gait." A voice caused 
 him to wheel about sharply. A member of his 
 congregation stood in the aisle looking at him 
 with keen eyes.
 
 316 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "Why, good morning, Mr. Johnson." There 
 was no reason why the pastor should become 
 confused, but he did. He stammered almost 
 guiltily. "Ah travelling, are you ?" He held 
 out his hand. 
 
 "Boston," announced the man curtly. 
 
 "Oh, I remember, you go every day. 
 Crowded this morning, isn't it?" 
 
 "Always crowded this season." He was 
 looking sharply at Miss Carniston, who seemed 
 to be absorbed in the passing landscape. Ill at 
 ease under the man's scrutiny, the pastor be- 
 gan to apologize, though no apology was called 
 for or even suggested. 
 
 "I found it suddenly necessary to go to Bos- 
 ton this morning," he began, impulsively. 
 "Expect to get back the first of the week. I 
 arranged for the service to-morrow. Brother 
 Aikens will preach; you'll remember that he 
 preached in January and you liked him. I 
 shall be there for the Wednesday evening 
 meeting." 
 
 The man made no reply. They were ap- 
 proaching noisily a suburban station and many 
 of the passengers were crowding into the aisle 
 and toward the door. When they were all out 
 and the newcomers were all in, the man had 
 disappeared.
 
 THE ETERNAL TWO 317 
 
 For a time neither the pastor nor the woman 
 spoke. They were coming to the terminal sta- 
 tion; the passengers were arising for bundles 
 and wraps ; in a moment they would be in Bos- 
 ton. And what then? He tried to think, but 
 the necessity for instant action rendered his 
 mind a blank. The train stopped and without 
 a word they joined the procession that was 
 moving into the station. He had taken her 
 travelling-case and was carrying it in addition 
 to his own. Automatically he turned into the 
 ladies' waiting-room. 
 
 "Let us sit here a few moments," he said. 
 "I want to talk to you." 
 
 She obeyed him blindly. 
 
 "It has just this moment come to me what 
 we will do." He spoke in a low tone, leaning 
 near her so that no one might hear, but there 
 was a glow of enthusiasm in his face. "See 
 that woman over there by the fruit stand?" 
 
 "Salvation Army?" 
 
 "Yes. It's the very solution." 
 
 "You don't mean ?" She turned and 
 looked at him searchingly. 
 
 "Indeed, I do. Why not? I wonder we 
 hadn't thought of it before. We will find the 
 headquarters and see the officers, then " 
 
 "Oh, rats!"
 
 3i8 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "Why why, I mean it, sister," he burst out 
 earnestly. "You don't know the Salvation 
 Army, I am sure, or " 
 
 "You want me to look like that thing over 
 there? Well, not to any great extent." She 
 looked up at him with her lip curled into a 
 sneer. 
 
 "Ah, sister, the Salvation Army," he said, 
 very gently, "is not what you perhaps think; 
 it is more than that. It's a great family of 
 brothers and sisters banded together to help 
 each other and the poor and the fallen. They 
 would make a real home for you; they would 
 surround you all the time with things that 
 would bring out the very best that is in you. 
 It will be a happy and beautiful and busy life. 
 Oh, I wish I might go into it myself; I can't 
 think of anything I should like to do more." 
 
 "Then why don't you ?" she asked, with swift 
 change. "Oh, I wish you would." She looked 
 up into his face with shining eyes. 
 
 "No. I can't now. I have my church," he 
 said, humoringly. 
 
 "Why don't you chuck the old church," she 
 cried, impulsively. "You could do a thousand 
 times more good here. Won't you? I'll join 
 'em if you will, and I'll work till I drop. Hon- 
 estly I will and truly."
 
 THE ETERNAL TWO 319 
 
 "No," he said, half sadly. "It's impossible 
 now. Some time I will, perhaps." 
 
 "Then I won't go a step into your old Salva- 
 tion Army," she flashed. 
 
 "Not to please me?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "No, no, don't say that. You'll go to please 
 me, sister ; I know you will." He bent toward 
 her and whispered the words intensely. "As 
 a favor to please me, won't you ?" 
 
 She did not answer. 
 
 "Say you will to please me?" he urged, woo- 
 ingly. 
 
 "If you really care," she faltered. "I I" 
 
 "God bless you, sister, I do care," he cried, 
 his voice full of feeling. "I knew you would. 
 You'll never regret it. It's wonderful work, 
 wonderful. Now I will get those bags checked 
 and we will hunt up the headquarters. The 
 woman here will tell us where they are." 
 
 "But you'll come once in a while often. 
 Honestly you will?" 
 
 "I shall be glad to come. I promise you, 
 and this time I'll not break my promise." 
 
 "You'll come often, every week. I may be 
 homesick." He thought he detected a quiver 
 in her voice. 
 
 "Indeed I will come just as often as I can."
 
 320 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "And you'll come to-morrow before you 
 go?*' she asked, eagerly. There were tears on 
 the long lashes as he looked into her face. 
 
 "I'll call on you Monday/' he answered, feel- 
 ingly. "I promise it. I'll call at nine o'clock." 
 
 "And you won't forget?" 
 
 "I won't forget," he said, softly. 
 
 A thrill of pity went over the pastor. It 
 was easy to understand this woman. He was 
 the last link between her and the absolutely new 
 world. When he left her she would be utterly 
 among strangers. The idea came to him with 
 force. No wonder she shrank from the final 
 plunge and clung to him. 
 
 "God bless you, sister," he said, taking her 
 hand in his and speaking more fervently than 
 he realized. "You are doing a brave thing, a 
 beautiful thing. I shall not forget." 
 
 She looked up at him eagerly, but did not 
 speak. After a moment he turned away and 
 busied himself with the travelling-bags. He 
 got them checked at the parcel-room, then 
 jotted down the address given by the Salvation 
 Army woman, and hurried to the front en- 
 trance for a car. 
 
 "I'd rather walk," she burst out impulsively, 
 as they stood on the curbing. "Let's not take 
 a car. I don't care how far it is."
 
 THE ETERNAL TWO 321 
 
 "Very well." 
 
 They started down the street together. 
 
 Gait intended to give the woman an hour, 
 but instead he gave her his whole day. Do the 
 best he could, it was after dark when he got 
 all the final arrangements made and was in his 
 room at the hotel. It was too late now to go 
 out to Helda Thost's; he would go out in the 
 morning. But he had settled Isobel Carniston. 
 Henceforth he could be easy about her. God 
 had placed a duty in his hands and he had done 
 it to the full. That at least was satisfaction.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 AS A BRAND FROM THE BURNING 
 
 GALT retired early and, contrary to his 
 expectation, slept soundly. It was late 
 in the morning when he arose. Before he had 
 finished his breakfast the church bells were 
 ringing. It was Sunday. It would be use- 
 less to make a call on her before afternoon, for 
 she always attended church. 
 
 He too would attend church. On the im- 
 pulse he arose and followed the Sabbath-clad 
 throng and the hymn-books. After a time the 
 group just in front of him turned in at a large 
 church of what denomination he did not know. 
 After a wavering moment he followed them. 
 An usher conducted him to a seat well to the 
 front. He looked about him curiously. The 
 audience seemed to be a scattering one for so 
 large a room, but he remembered that it was 
 near vacation time and that the weather was 
 warm. 
 
 The spirit of adventure began to arise within 
 
 him. It had been long since he had had a free 
 
 322
 
 BRAND FROM THE BURNING 323 
 
 Sunday, and it had been still longer since he 
 had occupied a layman's pew and listened to 
 a sermon. Then, too, he was an absolute 
 stranger. Not one in the house could know 
 that he was a minister; the preacher, indeed, 
 might look down on him as one of the lost sin- 
 ners and apply the text to him. God knew that 
 he needed it. 
 
 He entered into the preliminary services with 
 a will. The music was inspiring; the paid 
 choir had evidently been drilled as carefully for 
 its part as a theatrical chorus. After the 
 Scripture reading a perfect quartette rendered 
 Mrs. Stowe's sweet hymn: 
 
 "Still, still with thee 
 
 When purple morning breaketh 
 When the bird waketh 
 And the shadows flee," 
 
 and tears were in his eyes when they finished. 
 That was the cry of a striving soul, and his own 
 soul echoed its prayer. This was worship; 
 this was the fellowship of kindred souls. Then 
 the sermon had followed, and if the preacher 
 had known he could not have chosen a theme 
 more apt. He was a man of sweet, spiritual 
 life; that had been evident from his opening 
 prayer. He had chosen from his text, "I was
 
 324 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 glad when they said unto me, Let us go into the 
 house of the Lord," and he launched out with 
 power into a definition and a defense of the 
 Christian church. He dwelt upon it as an 
 army marching against the forces of evil. It 
 would be as unwise, he declared, for each Chris- 
 tian to set out alone for the struggle against 
 the world as it would be for each soldier of an 
 army to fight independently of the others. 
 Then he outlined the duties and the privileges 
 and the compensations of the Christian soldier, 
 and he closed by reading the great battle hymn 
 of the church, "Onward, Christian Soldiers," 
 and when the great organ pealed out the mag- 
 nificent war song with its joy and triumph and 
 its rallying cry for the great Captain in com- 
 mand, and the choir joined in to swell the vol- 
 ume of exultation and victory, Gait felt the 
 tears streaming down his cheeks. 
 
 "Like a mighty army moves the church of God." 
 
 And he had listened to carping little souls 
 who knew nothing of the sweep and power of 
 this mighty, irresistible, onward-pushing host, 
 who had seen only the little failings here and 
 there in individual lives. He went up after 
 the benediction and took the pastor's hand. 
 
 "God bless you,'* he said. "Your message
 
 BRAND FROM THE BURNING 325 
 
 has lifted me and given me a new vision." 
 And in a moment he was in the street again, 
 his heart glowing with pride that he was 
 counted worthy to be enrolled as a soldier under 
 so magnificent a leader. 
 
 He ate his dinner absorbedly. Were it not 
 best to go back home now on the afternoon 
 train and not call on her at all? The impulse 
 of the morning before had clearly been con- 
 nected with Isobel Carniston. God had sent 
 him to rescue her, and he had done the work. 
 Could he be true and loyal to his great Master 
 and go to this woman as he had intended to go ? 
 Was it not a virtual surrender? 
 
 Pshaw! He sprang to his feet and went 
 out again into the hot streets. He had pam- 
 pered his conscience until it had become an ab- 
 normal thing which was tyrannizing and per- 
 verting him. What possible harm could come 
 from a parting call on this really spiritual 
 woman ? She was going away, perhaps never 
 to return. He was in the city, only a few 
 blocks away from her; it would be positively 
 rude for him not to call. He would go and 
 wish her bon voyage. There could be no harm 
 in that. 
 
 He found himself striding rapidly in her di-
 
 326 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 rection. 37 Vine Street, he knew the address 
 by heart; he had seen it over and over again 
 on her books and pamphlets. He would not 
 take a car, he would walk; it suited his mood 
 better. It was just two when he rang the bell. 
 A servant silently took his card and ushered 
 him into a reception room. 
 
 Gait was nervous. He started at every 
 sound; she would come in now in a moment, 
 this woman he had dreamed about, this woman, 
 whom, in spite of himself, he loved. There 
 was no escaping the tremendous fact that he 
 loved her, and she was coming in a moment 
 through the portieres there. 
 
 He tried to compose himself by looking 
 about the room. And this was her home, her 
 permanent home. How like her everything 
 seemed. She had planned and arranged it 
 with her own hands ; it was a part of her. He 
 thought that if he had blundered there by acci- 
 dent he would have recognized it as hers. It 
 seemed to him that a subtle power was breath- 
 ing from every object, some occult influence as 
 if her eyes were upon him. Inanimate objects 
 from constant association with human souls 
 absorb vital spirit until they become themselves 
 redolent of personality. 
 
 He caught the rustle of a dress in the hall-
 
 BRAND FROM THE BURNING 327 
 
 way and sprang to his feet, his heart fluttering 
 like a boy's, but it was only Frieda Paine. 
 
 "This is unexpected, Mr. Gait," she cried, 
 wonderingly. "In Boston and on Sunday?" 
 
 "Is Miss Thost not here?" he demanded, his 
 head full of but a single thought. "Is she out 
 perhaps ?" 
 
 "Yes, with Dick." She looked up at him 
 quickly and laughed in her noiseless way, the 
 merry little wrinkles playing mischievously 
 about her eyes. 
 
 "Dick here in Boston?" 
 
 "Why, he came down with us; didn't you 
 know that ?" she laughed. 
 
 "And left the divorce case?" 
 
 "Oh, that was settled long ago. Dick won 
 it, of course. And Oh, Mr. Gait," swiftly 
 changing her manner and leaning toward him 
 like a child with a secret, "do you know Dick 
 is going to sail with us. He decided it last 
 night. He is all tired out and we persuaded 
 him." 
 
 "Dick!" explosively. 
 
 "Oh, it didn't take much persuasion." 
 Again she looked up at him and laughed, and 
 in a flash there came a thought that sent his 
 heart into his throat. 
 
 "When do you sail?" he gasped.
 
 328 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "Tuesday noon on the Franconia. I'm do- 
 ing the packing." He had never seen her in 
 such good humor. She seemed to laugh at 
 nothing. 
 
 "And Dick is to spend the whole summer 
 with Miss with you?" 
 
 "Not all of it. He's promised only two 
 weeks on the continent, but of course he will 
 stay longer than that under the circum- 
 stances," she added, laughing again. 
 
 "I wish you all a pleasant voyage, I am 
 sure." The pastor arose abruptly as if to go. 
 
 "Why! Won't you wait for them, Mr. 
 Gait?" 
 
 "Are they coming soon?" he asked, quickly. 
 
 "Oh, I can't say that. There's no telling 
 when once they get out in that motor car. 
 They may come in five minutes and they may 
 stay out until dark." Again she laughed in the 
 mere joy of the thing, but it jarred upon Gait. 
 
 "I'll not wait," he said, decisively. "Give 
 her give them my best wishes for a pleasant 
 voyage. Good-by." He fairly ran down the 
 steps and he did not look back when he reached 
 the sidewalk. 
 
 How plain it all was now ! What a fool he 
 had been! A thousand little incidents came 
 Crowding into his memory. A blind man
 
 BRAND FROM THE BURNING 329 
 
 ought to have seen it. And after all was it not 
 a perfect mating? They were not in the least 
 alike, but why should they be alike? He re- 
 membered word for word what she had said in 
 one of her lectures: "A perfect union of souls 
 is possible only when each supplements the 
 other, when one supplies what the other lacks. 
 There is no union of like with like it tends to 
 repulsion." And no two souls that he had 
 ever known were so fitted to supplement each 
 other as these two. He knew Dick as no one 
 else knew him and he felt how perfectly she 
 would supply just those things that his life was 
 bare of and that his life yearned for, and he 
 realized, too, how wonderfully Dick would 
 come into her life to complete the circle that 
 heretofore had been perfect only in part. 
 
 For a time he plunged on and on, without a 
 care of where he was or whither he was hasten- 
 ing. She had never thought of him for a sin- 
 gle moment as he had thought of her ; that was 
 evident now. She had looked upon him only 
 as a recruit for her cult. Her sympathy and 
 her harmony with him and her calling him as 
 he was wandering in the darkness had been 
 simply a part of her method of ensnaring him. 
 She did it undoubtedly with all of her devo- 
 tees, with Dick, of course, and now she was
 
 330 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 to marry him, and she had known it that night 
 when she had called out of the darkness. 
 
 His thinking began to sober him a little. He 
 would go home; he would take the very next 
 train ; he would go to the hotel for his hand-bag 
 and then wait in the station. He would go 
 back to his church work, and thank God it was 
 not too late. He had been plucked as a brand 
 from the burning. God was watching over 
 him after all. 
 
 And little by little there came back to him 
 the thrill of that morning service in the strange 
 church. In the station, where he must wait 
 two hours, he found himself repeating those 
 glorious words of the battle hymn: 
 
 "Onward then, ye soldiers, heart and voices joined." 
 
 He had had his lesson; he would throw him- 
 self into his work now as he had never done 
 before. Back and forth he paced down the 
 long aisles amid the moving throngs of trav- 
 ellers. The passion and the habit of his life 
 had triumphed over the weakness of the mo- 
 ment and now he was in the glow of the morn- 
 ing's sermon. He would himself preach from 
 the same theme on the next Sabbath. It was a 
 glorious theme: 
 
 "Like a mighty army moves the church of God."
 
 BRAND FROM THE BURNING 331 
 
 Automatically his eye was caught by a copy 
 of a home paper on the station newsstand. 
 He stopped and glanced at it, he hardly knew 
 why; then he purchased a copy. One of the 
 headings stood out most glaringly: 
 
 "PASTOR ELOPES 
 
 WITH FAIR MAGDALEN. 
 
 ELOQUENT PASTOR OF THE NORTH STREET 
 CHURCH IN CUPID'S TOILS. 
 
 Scandal in Church Circles." 
 
 He took the paper to a seat and skimmed 
 over the article, scarce realizing at first its full 
 import : 
 
 "The Reverend Mr. John Gait, pastor of the North 
 Street Church, took the early train for the Hub yes- 
 terday morning and he took it with some haste. He 
 had important personal business, so he told his pa- 
 rishioners when he met them, but he couldn't stop 
 to explain. He hinted that he might be absent for 
 an indefinite period, which did not argue well for the 
 morrow's sermon, but he had no time for details. 
 His time was valuable. So also was that of 'Miss' 
 Isobel Carniston, a flamboyant beauty well known in 
 certain unexclusive social circles. She was getting 
 plainly nervous. She had held a seat in a crowded 
 car for ten minutes against all comers and the strain
 
 332 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 was beginning to tell. But the sight of the pastor 
 in the door brought sunshine and comfort. She sub- 
 sided in smiles that threatened to crack her com- 
 plexion, and he subsided beside her. Then they sat 
 closer and closer until there was room enough in the 
 seat for two more. 
 
 "The affair is no surprise to many. The intimacy 
 between the two has been well known among the pa- 
 rishioners for some time, but they have succeeded so 
 well in keeping it quiet that until now no whisper 
 has reached the general public. They have labored 
 and wrestled and prayed with their pastor, but all, 
 it seems, without avail. Despite their most earnest 
 expostulations, he has taken her to automobile rides 
 and theatre parties and midnight luncheons and even 
 to moonlight walks in the .park. It transpires that 
 he saved her from suicide one night last winter while 
 he was doing work in the slums. Despite her fallen 
 condition she was a woman of striking beauty, and 
 he meditated on saving her. He spoke to her about 
 it, and it seems that she had no particular objection 
 to being rescued, seeing that he was a young man with 
 personal charms. He proceeded therefore to rescue 
 her, and now it seems to his somewhat anxious pa- 
 rishioners that he overdid the matter and rescued her 
 too much. They were seen together during the day 
 at different points in Boston, and it is reported that 
 late in the afternoon they took the Fall River boat 
 for New York." 
 
 The article was illustrated with a picture of 
 the church, a likeness of Gait, and a cut of a
 
 BRAND FROM THE BURNING 333 
 
 flamboyant female purporting to be Isobel Car- 
 niston. 
 
 He read over the article again. His first 
 impulse was to telegraph to Mr. Bradley in- 
 stantly in the most forcible words that he could 
 command. It was clear enough where the 
 thing had originated. Johnson, whom he had 
 met on the train, was responsible, but there was 
 much in it that the man could not have known 
 had his own church members not had a hand in 
 it. They could have stopped it. They knew that 
 Johnson was a reporter and they knew that his 
 questions to them could have but a single object. 
 And yet they had furnished facts for the article. 
 
 He would go home instantly and call a meet- 
 ing of the full board. He would stand on his 
 rights as a man; he would cleanse the church 
 of God. He strode over to the office across the 
 room and sent this telegram to Mr. Bradley: 
 
 "The executive committee will meet me with- 
 out fail in the Ladies' Room of the church to- 
 night at nine. All members will be present. 
 Important." 
 
 He had it marked "Rush," then he paced 
 again the long aisles of the station, but there 
 was a new look on the man's face now. It was 
 the face of Elijah on his way to Naboth's vine- 
 yard.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE CLEANSING OF THE TEMPLE 
 
 IT was past nine when Gait entered the ladies' 
 room. By taking a cab he could have got 
 from the train to the church on time, but he did 
 not wish to be on time. He would make sure 
 that all were present, and he would burst in 
 upon them without prelude. He took a swift 
 glance about the room and began to talk even 
 before he had reached his chair. 
 
 "I hope you will excuse me, gentlemen," he 
 said, in a husky voice as if out of breath from 
 hurrying. "I came directly from the train. I 
 left Boston as soon as I saw the morning paper. 
 I have come for an explanation." 
 
 He stopped in a precise way and looked 
 sharply from one to another without taking a 
 seat. There was an awkward moment. He 
 had taken them by surprise. This was not the 
 John Gait that they knew, this angry man who 
 stood there as if he had just challenged the 
 whole crowd to come on and fight. They had 
 been discussing him as a milk-sop, a dreamer 
 
 334
 
 CLEANSING THE TEMPLE 335 
 
 without fibre, a man too good and innocent to 
 live, one who had blundered into this damaging 
 scandal through sheer quixotism and lack of 
 knowledge of the world. Mr. Bradley was the 
 one who broke the silence. 
 
 "What have we to explain ?" he asked, insin- 
 uatingly. 
 
 "This whole matter, sir/' 
 
 The man's eyes were like coals. A spot of 
 red glowed in each cheek, indignation quivered 
 in every line and angle of his frail figure. 
 Whatever he had been, he was a man now, out- 
 raged and angry. It was Savonarola before 
 the council. 
 
 "Under the circumstances would not expla- 
 nation seem to come more naturally from you, 
 Mr. Gait?" There was a velvet purr in the 
 old man's voice which those who knew him un- 
 derstood very well. "The church is not de- 
 fendant in this case; this outrage has been 
 brought upon her." 
 
 "Very true, sir, and by her own members." 
 The pastor's voice rang out like a challenge. 
 "Let me make one emphatic point: a scandal 
 like this would have been impossible had mem- 
 bers of the church not desired it." 
 
 "Foolishness, Mr. Gait, rank foolishness!" 
 The old man's face flushed angrily. He put up
 
 336 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 his hand as the High Priest might have done to 
 stop blasphemy. "Let us come to the point; 
 let us understand each other at the start. Do 
 you deny that you went yesterday morning to 
 Boston in the intimate company of a low 
 woman, and that you were with this low woman 
 during the day at least?" He brought out the 
 last two words with insinuating distinctness. 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "Ah!" He cast a swift glance about the 
 room. 
 
 "Do you believe that newspaper story, Mr. 
 Bradley? Do you believe that of me? Does 
 the church believe it ?" He looked from face to 
 face in a dazed way as if loath to take the testi- 
 mony of his own eyes. 
 
 "It makes not the slightest difference whether 
 we believe it or not, Mr. Gait," the man an- 
 swered, sharply. "That is not the point. We 
 believe what you have told us, that you went 
 to Boston in the intimate company of that un- 
 speakable woman and that you were with her 
 during the day, and what is far more, we know 
 that the whole town knows it. That is enough 
 and more than enough. As I have told more 
 than once before this, your motive has nothing 
 to do with the matter, absolutely." 
 
 "And it has come to the point when a pastor
 
 CLEANSING THE TEMPLE 337 
 
 of Jesus Christ is forbidden by his church to 
 come into personal contact with sinners ?" 
 
 "One moment, Mr. Gait. You must look at 
 this in the light of common sense. We demand 
 it. Consider that for months the city has seen 
 you in the company of this woman, this out- 
 wardly very beautiful woman. They have seen 
 you walking with her in the parks often late at 
 night, dining with her in restaurants, driving 
 with her into the country, and now taking her 
 to the city, for all that they know, for several 
 days." 
 
 "Is it conceivable to you, Mr. Bradley, that 
 I might have been saving her life ; that I might 
 have been taking her to a place of refuge where 
 she could have the chance that is refused her in 
 this town?" 
 
 "Mr. Gait, you refuse to understand us. I 
 repeat again, we care nothing whatever for 
 your motive. We are not dealing with you or 
 your ideals or with the future of this woman; 
 we are dealing with the church of God in a 
 great community." The old man sat square 
 and erect. His stubby white hair bristled upon 
 his head, as if charged with electricity. It was 
 the president of a corporation before his board 
 of control. It was cold business ; there was to 
 be no sentiment and no mercy. "Mr. Gait,"
 
 338 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 he repeated with a metallic ring in his voice, 
 "you have done this thing with your eyes wide 
 open. This people has been very patient with 
 you. We have counselled you, we have warned 
 you in specific terms, we have pleaded with you. 
 You are in a great city where certain concep- 
 tions are fundamental. You can not disregard 
 them, and you can not change them. You may 
 criticise, you may theorize, you may deplore, 
 you may sentimentalize, but they will be here 
 a thousand years after you are dead. You 
 have got to adapt yourself to things as they are, 
 or else pay the penalty. I told you three 
 months ago that you can not slap society in the 
 face with impunity. We grant you that your 
 motives are as pure as an angel's. That is not 
 the question. The bare fact of the matter is 
 this : society simply will not see you day after 
 day associating with a low prostitute like that. 
 Whatever you may think or say, the town is 
 capable of but a single conclusion. They know 
 what that woman is and they know that reform- 
 ing her is like reforming a rotten apple. It 
 is impossible. We told you so and yet right in 
 the face of our advice and command you have 
 gone on. And what have you accomplished? 
 You have brought scandal on the church of 
 God, and you have harmed it more than any-
 
 CLEANSING THE TEMPLE 339 
 
 thing else has done for years. Its worst 
 enemy could not have struck such a blow." 
 
 He pulled out his handkerchief and mopped 
 his eyes as if moved to tears at the awful injury 
 to his church. 
 
 "Mr. Bradley, let me ask you a simple ques- 
 tion/' Gait stood erect with squared shoul- 
 ders and spoke as if weighing every word. 
 "Only two persons in this world knew all the 
 facts in that newspaper article and both are 
 official members of this church. Suppose I ad- 
 mit as true the worst possible construction of 
 my acts yesterday, was it necessary for them to 
 put that article into the public press ?" 
 
 "I deny that only two knew it." 
 
 "That article could have come only from Mr. 
 Henry Johnson who saw me on the train, and 
 certain of the facts could have been furnished 
 him only by you, Mr. Crawford. You met me 
 on the way to the station. Do you deny that 
 on yesterday afternoon you had an interview 
 with Mr. Johnson ?" He paused an impressive 
 moment and then went on. "Gentlemen, if 
 there has come harm to the church it has come 
 from its own members. Suppose I had done 
 all that that article insinuates and more, was it 
 not their duty to use every effort to keep it out 
 of the papers, for the sake of the church ?"
 
 340 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "That's a mere charge, sir," roared the old 
 man. "You offer no proof, you have no 
 proof." 
 
 "We shall see. Let me tell you one thing. 
 Within the last hour a man has told me that he 
 will testify in court that the copy for that article 
 was furnished the press by Henry Johnson, an 
 officer of this church. On the way from the 
 station three different reporters asked me for 
 an interview. I told them to meet me in my 
 room at ten-thirty to-night. I shall tell them 
 my version of the story and I shall also tell 
 them that I shall remove the name of Henry 
 Johnson from the membership roll of this 
 church." 
 
 "You have no right " 
 
 "One moment, sir. I have the floor." He 
 turned upon them almost with ferocity. "Gen- 
 tlemen, I am a minister of the gospel, and when 
 members of the Church of Jesus Christ delib- 
 erately manufacture a scandal involving the 
 church such as that printed to-day, it is time 
 for me to make a whip of small cords and 
 cleanse the temple of God. That article to-day 
 in its insinuations and its suggestions could 
 have come only from an imagination unspeak- 
 ably foul, so foul that the man's life must be 
 corrupt also in act. Furthermore the fact that
 
 CLEANSING THE TEMPLE 341 
 
 the leading members of this church spend their 
 indignation upon me rather than upon the orig- 
 inator of the article brands them as in sympathy 
 with the originator of the article/' 
 
 He paused a moment and instantly the room 
 hummed as with angry wasps. Two or three 
 leaped to their feet and began to speak in ex- 
 cited voices. Mr. Bradley had also arisen and 
 was trying to make himself heard. 
 
 "Silence! I have the floor, sir." It was the 
 voice of one of the old prophets. It hushed 
 the room instantly. "The charge you bring 
 against me is the very same charge that they 
 brought with such ferocity against Jesus Christ. 
 He ate and walked with publicans and sinners 
 and they crucified Him. Only one thing in His 
 whole life ever aroused the flames of His anger, 
 and that was the lives of men who took the atti- 
 tude that you take here to-day. If He should 
 come to this church as your pastor you would 
 throw Him out within a month, and He would 
 say to you, 'Woe unto you scribes and Phari- 
 sees, hypocrites, ye are like unto whited sepul- 
 chres which indeed appear beautiful outward, 
 but are within full of dead men's bones, and of 
 all uncleanness.' ' 
 
 "That's raving " began Mr. Bradley, but 
 the awful appearance of the man checked him.
 
 342 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 His eyes seemed to flame in the fierceness of his 
 denunciation. 
 
 "I started for Boston yesterday morning 
 with absolutely no thought of this woman, and 
 by sheer accident I found her on the train on 
 the verge of self-destruction. She had done 
 her best to live a clean life and not a church 
 member in this city had offered to help her or 
 had spoken a kind word. On the contrary 
 members of this church had done all in their 
 power to drag her back to hell." 
 
 "Pshaw !" sneered the old man. 
 
 "Mr. Bradley, I'm not going to mince mat- 
 ters. That woman was a pure girl until she 
 came into contact with certain members of this 
 church. They dazzled her and ruined her, and 
 your son James, sir, was the leader I repeat 
 it, your son James Bradley, and if strict justice 
 were done he would be behind prison bars to- 
 day, if not worse. There are crimes connected 
 with these young men that if published in their 
 fullness would make this town gasp with hor- 
 ror. Mr. Crawford and Mr. Ames, your sons 
 are among them, and you both know it. If 
 Isobel Carniston is a leper to-day and abso- 
 lutely beyond hope, this church has made her 
 so, and so far from helping her, it has been 
 driving her to death without mercy."
 
 CLEANSING THE TEMPLE 343 
 
 "Hold ! I won't hear another word, not an- 
 other word." The old man's voice arose in a 
 sharp falsetto. "You attack the church of 
 God ; you destroy the church of God." 
 
 "On the contrary I would magnify the 
 church above everything else on earth." 
 
 "You would magnify it by reviling it, by 
 making it the by-word and the laughingstock 
 of every drunken loafer along the saloons." 
 
 "No, sir, it's that already if it has within it 
 any other spirit than that of Jesus Christ. The 
 church was founded for no other purpose than 
 to do His work. It is not a club, or a lodge, or 
 a society, or an exclusive circle. It was 
 founded in lowliness of spirit, without a thought 
 of pride or show, for lifting up the fallen, giv- 
 ing sympathy to the helpless, and stretching 
 out the hand to the outcast and the sinful. I 
 thank God that thousands of churches all over 
 this land are still doing this. But this church 
 is not : it's founded on the pride of life." 
 
 "Mr. Gait, we won't hear another word." 
 The words fairly bubbled in the old man's 
 throat. "This discussion has gone far enough. 
 You have lost control of yourself. It looks 
 very much as if your usefulness in this church 
 was at an end." 
 
 "On the contrary, sir, my usefulness in this
 
 344 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 church has only just begun." He paused for a 
 moment and looked sharply from face to face. 
 "Gentlemen, from this moment this church is 
 going to be conducted on the principles laid 
 down by Jesus Christ. I give notice that to- 
 morrow morning I shall remove from the 
 church roll the names of fifteen members and 
 I shall publish the names in to-morrow's press. 
 Gentlemen, I bid you good night. I have an 
 engagement at ten-thirty." He started briskly 
 for the door, and after an instant a burst of 
 excited voices filled the room. 
 
 "Wait! Stop!" 
 
 "Stop him." 
 
 "Comeback!" 
 
 "Brother Gait, one moment." 
 
 But the pastor paid no heed. Like one of the 
 old prophets he strode from their midst and in 
 a moment had disappeared in the darkness.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 AND THE SOUL THOU HAST SAVED THY SOUL 
 SHALT SAVE 
 
 GALT plunged down the street almost reck- 
 lessly. He would walk to his room; his 
 mood demanded action. And action was good 
 for him : it brought him into the night air and 
 cleared his mind and sobered him. His anger 
 seemed to subside with every step he took away 
 from Mr. Bradley. When he reached the re- 
 porters, waiting for him in the hotel lobby, he 
 had decided not to publish the names of the 
 fifteen. He would cross them in red ink from 
 the roll book and then post them conspicuously 
 on the church bulletin board. To the reporters 
 he would give only the story of his connection 
 with Isobel Carniston. 
 
 He took them into a parlor, and began with 
 minuteness from the night when he had rescued 
 the girl from under the street car. They lis- 
 tened with impatience. 
 
 "But the church," they interrupted, at length, 
 "how did the church receive this ?" 
 
 345
 
 346 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "I was criticised." 
 
 "They forbade you to visit the girl again ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And you disregarded their wishes ?" 
 
 "I am a minister of the gospel. It was im- 
 possible for me to obey them." 
 
 "And you went to her a number of times 
 after that?" 
 
 "Yes. I found her a home in the Water 
 Street Mission, and I called upon her as it was 
 my duty to do as a Christian minister." 
 
 "She is a very beautiful woman ?" 
 
 "She is so regarded." 
 
 "And what of the story of your walking with 
 her in the park at midnight when she. was seen 
 well, very near to you ?" 
 
 The pastor glanced up angrily at the man. 
 
 "That story came from the wretched gang 
 that ruined her life," he burst out, hotly, "and 
 three of them are members of my church. If 
 you want sensation look up their records. 
 They enticed her from the Mission to the the- 
 atre and then to Larry's restaurant where they 
 had a private dining-room, and then they were 
 going to take her God knows where. By sheer 
 accident I happened to be at the restaurant with 
 friends, and she broke away from them and 
 came to me and I took her back to the Mission.
 
 THY SOUL SHALT SAVE 347 
 
 She had not yet recovered from her serious ill- 
 ness and the excitement and the walk overcame 
 her and she fainted. And, do you know, those 
 vampires followed us all the way to the Mis- 
 sion ? That is all there is to that story." 
 
 "And their names?" 
 
 "Their names will be dropped from the 
 church roll to-morrow morning. Now as to 
 yesterday: I went to Boston on private busi- 
 ness and by pure accident I found the girl on 
 the train. She was in desperation and near to 
 suicide. She had been honest in her attempt 
 to reform and live a decent life, but those vam- 
 pires had followed her every movement. She 
 ran away from them, and if I had not seen her 
 there could have been but one end : the unspeak- 
 able part of Boston would have got her. As 
 it was I put her in charge of the Salvation 
 Army, and for the present she is safe." 
 
 "And you are intending to keep on helping 
 her in spite of the warning of the church ?" 
 
 "All that is within my power. As a follower 
 of Christ I have no other course." 
 
 "Is it not possible, Mr. Gait, that this scan- 
 dalous story was originated by some of your 
 members to spite you and ruin you since you 
 were so determined to disregard their wishes ?" 
 
 The pastor looked up sharply. It was a new
 
 348 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 thought. Before he could answer they had 
 asked another question. 
 
 "You attended the lectures of the Theoso- 
 phist, Helda Thost?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Against the wishes of your church ?" 
 
 "It was nothing that concerned them." 
 
 "But they considered it a serious matter, did 
 they not?" 
 
 "It's probable." 
 
 "Some of your church members also attended 
 the lectures ?" 
 
 "They did." 
 
 "You were with this Theosophist almost 
 daily in walks and drives, were you not?" 
 
 "No, sir, not daily." The pastor looked 
 sharply from one to the other. They were 
 cross-examining him. 
 
 "You believe in the principles of Theoso- 
 phy?" 
 
 "No-o that is, not all. I went simply " 
 he stopped in confusion. He was about to say 
 that he had gone to the lectures only because 
 he was interested in all phases of religion. 
 
 "You led Mrs. Bailey to believe that you did 
 not know this woman. Yet you were even then 
 very intimate with her?" 
 
 "Why, what do you mean?"
 
 THY SOUL SHALT SAVE 349 
 
 "You had frequent interviews with her alone 
 in her rooms ?" 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "Did you see her in Boston?" 
 "I did not, gentlemen " 
 "You went to Boston to see her ?" 
 "Gentlemen, I have nothing further to tell 
 you to-night. You have my story." He arose 
 to dismiss them. 
 
 "What is to be your policy with the church?" 
 "I have nothing more to tell you." 
 "Shall you resign?" 
 "Gentlemen, I bid you good night." 
 He went to his room in a strange confusion 
 of mind. What had they been trying to get 
 from him? What had been their object? 
 They seemed to know the whole story of his 
 affair with Helda Thost. Could it be possible 
 that the truth came to him in a flash: they 
 would publish nothing of his story of Isobel 
 Carniston ; they would bring out another sensa- 
 tional article about his infatuation with Helda 
 Thost and his defiance of the church board. 
 They had evidently found out everything, and 
 they would multiply it by ten. 
 
 He arose to his feet with a choking sensation 
 at his heart. An impulse surged upon him to 
 run after them and forbid them to print the
 
 350 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 article. He would compel them to tell the 
 truth. 
 
 But was it not the truth ? 
 
 He sank again into his study chair. Had he 
 not gone to Boston that morning because he 
 loved Helda Thost beyond the bounds of rea- 
 son ? Did he not know in his heart that he had 
 gone to win her on any terms she might pro- 
 pose even though it might be the acceptance of 
 all that she stood for ? And had he not turned 
 back only when he found that she loved an- 
 other ? There was no use to try to deceive him- 
 self. However he might try to believe other- 
 wise, the real truth of it was that she had had 
 him in her power and that it had been only 
 chance that had kept her from exercising her 
 power to the full. 
 
 And he had sat as a judge upon the church. 
 Who was he to dictate terms to anybody ? Had 
 the board known the full truth they might have 
 silenced him with a question ; they might have 
 asked for his resignation; they might even 
 have secured his trial before the general church 
 body and had him expelled from the ministry. 
 His offense grew as he dwelt upon it ; his con- 
 science, abnormally sensitive, lashed him with- 
 out mercy. 
 
 The clock struck midnight, and at the sound
 
 THY SOUL SHALT SAVE 351 
 
 of it he arose and went out into the coolness of 
 the summer night. He would walk along the 
 deserted streets, as so often he had done at 
 times of doubt and stress, and try to think. He 
 headed for the suburbs, and gradually he found 
 himself where the silence of the country lay 
 over everything. The damp odors of the night 
 stole to him from the lawns and gardens. A 
 few pale stars blinked here and there in the 
 misty sky. He took off his hat and looked up 
 at them as he walked, and gradually the tempest 
 within him died away like a summer storm. 
 He saw it all clearly now. It would be foolish- 
 ness for him to stay now and fight the church 
 with all the scandal to face that the newspapers 
 would bring against him. Six months ago he 
 might have done it ; it would have been his duty 
 to have done it, but not now. His influence 
 with the North Street Church was gone past 
 all recall. To stay and fight it out would be 
 merely personal spite. Were it only the Car- 
 niston affair that divided them he might do it, 
 but with this other thing to face he could only 
 lose in the end and he ought to lose. 
 
 There was nothing to do but resign and seek 
 another field where he could work hand in hand 
 with his parishioners. He would send in his 
 resignation in the morning's mail and leave
 
 352 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 the region forever. It would be best for him, 
 and best for the church, and best for the cause 
 of Christ whom he served. He turned sharply 
 about and started back with decision in every 
 movement. 
 
 But his resignation ought not to hinder him 
 from carrying out the threat he had made to 
 the board. He owed it to the cause he served, 
 and to his successor to remove the obvious 
 plague spots from the church of Christ. He 
 would go at once to the church and in his study 
 there he would cross out the fifteen names from 
 the book and make a list for the bulletin board. 
 Then he would write out his resignation and 
 send it by speedy messenger to the clerk of the 
 board in the early morning. After that they 
 might do as they pleased. 
 
 That was a busy night for John Gait. He 
 picked up his private papers and his little per- 
 sonal belongings and made final arrangements 
 for the boxing and storing of his books and 
 furniture. At nine o'clock he was at the rail- 
 road station with a single suit case. As to 
 what the next step was to be he did not know 
 or care. He was obeying the impulse within 
 him to arise and shake from his feet, in true
 
 THY SOUL SHALT SAVE 353 
 
 scriptural fashion, the dust of the town and be 
 quit of it forever. 
 
 He had hardly entered the station when a 
 reporter found him. 
 
 "Is it true, Mr. Gait," he asked, "that you 
 have resigned from the North Street Church ?" 
 
 "It is." 
 
 "Does your resignation imply that the 
 charges against you are true, and that you do 
 not care to remain and defend yourself ?" 
 
 "It does not." He turned upon the man 
 angrily. "It simply means that I will injure 
 the cause I serve more by remaining and forc- 
 ing myself upon this congregation than I would 
 by removing myself and quietly allowing the 
 matter to settle down. I am willing to sacri- 
 fice myself for the general good of the church. 
 I only ask your paper to tell the whole truth 
 in this matter. If you are honest you will not 
 drop this story with my departure. You will 
 look carefully into the whole affair of Isobel 
 Carniston and a half dozen others like her 
 Amy Fiske, for instance and publish what you 
 find. You will have all the sensation there that 
 you want." 
 
 "Will you give me the names?" 
 
 "If you care to consult the church bulletin
 
 354 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 board you will find some of the leaders of this 
 wretched gang in a list of men whom I have 
 just removed from the membership roll of the 
 church." 
 
 "Will you make a full statement about this 
 matter?" The reporter came nearer in his 
 eagerness. 
 
 "I will make no more statements." 
 
 "But give us a name to begin on." 
 
 "I have said all that I shall." 
 
 "But your intentions ? Where do you intend 
 to go now ?" 
 
 "I don't know," the pastor began, but it 
 flashed upon him that this would only add an 
 element of mystery and tempt the newspapers 
 to follow him and keep alive the scandal. "I 
 am going into mission work in New York, or 
 Chicago, or San Francisco," he blurted out at 
 random. The crier was announcing the train 
 for Boston and without another word to the 
 reporter he turned and jostled with the crowd 
 through the gate. 
 
 For a moment a wild feeling of exultation 
 came over him. He was free, free as he never 
 had been before in his whole life. He could 
 go where not a soul would know him and begin 
 again. He would go on and on to San Fran- 
 cisco, to the Philippines perhaps, and throw
 
 THY SOUL SHALT SAVE 355 
 
 himself heart and soul into some work where he 
 could be unfettered and unknown. But the re- 
 vulsion followed as swiftly. He had found out 
 the weakness of his own soul, he had found the 
 true depth of his religion. A man's strength 
 is measured by his power of resistance at his 
 weakest moment, and this had been his test. 
 He knew himself now and he despised himself. 
 He had kept from falling all these years simply 
 because he had had no real temptation. 
 
 And in a way this self-diagnosis was right. 
 The weakness of his life had been that there 
 had been in it not enough of struggle. He had 
 never been sharply tempted .nor had he been 
 greatly shaken by doubts or opposition. He 
 had entered early upon his Christian life and 
 had devoted himself so earnestly to his high 
 ideals that he had gone on and on in a placid 
 way until placidness had become a habit. Now, 
 all in a moment he had been swept out of his 
 sheltered nook into the fierce current, and it 
 seemed to him like the destruction of all things. 
 The one love of his life, that had come upon 
 him so impetuously, had all in a moment turned 
 to ashes in his hands. And at the same instant 
 there had come with whirlwind suddenness a 
 realization of the weakness of his own char- 
 acter. That which most men would have dis-
 
 356 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 missed without a thought had been magnified 
 by his sensitive conscience into a total fall. It 
 seemed to him as if the plans of his life lay in 
 ruins all about him and as if there was no use 
 for further struggle. 
 
 The spirit was out of the man. The more 
 spiritual and sensitive the soul the more utter 
 its fall if it ever does fall. 
 
 There was no train for New York for several 
 hours and he went out and wandered down the 
 mid-day streets. Once he passed a bar-room 
 and the reek of it came out like a great breath, 
 fetid and hot. A strange impulse swept over 
 him to go in and saturate himself with sin and 
 be done with it. Who would care? It was 
 only an impulse, but he knew now how des- 
 perate men sometimes feel in the crises of their 
 lives. 
 
 "God pity them !" he cried. "And God pity 
 me!" 
 
 What next? 
 
 He passed a woman in the uniform of the 
 Salvation Army, and instantly he pulled out his 
 watch. Two o'clock Monday and he had 
 promised Isobel Carniston to call on her at nine. 
 His last words had been that he would not for- 
 get ; he would call before he started back home. 
 She was depending on him.
 
 THY SOUL SHALT SAVE 357 
 
 What if she was ? How could he help Isobel 
 Carniston now? But the thought troubled 
 him. How utterly desolate she had been! 
 Doubtless she felt as he felt now, alone, un- 
 utterably alone. Oh, the loneliness, no one to 
 care, no one to help, come what might, no one 
 to share with joy or sorrow ! Alone, he un- 
 derstood it now, and his heart went out to her 
 in her misery and her loneliness. A sudden 
 longing to see her came upon him. She would 
 be glad to see him and how it would help him 
 to see one face that would have in it sympathy 
 and comprehension. 
 
 He hailed a passing cab and urged the driver 
 to drive rapidly. It was two-thirty when he 
 entered the little street and stood before the 
 number. He rang the bell and waited. There 
 was no response. Then he rang again and 
 after a moment the door opened timidly. 
 
 "Oh, it is you." She threw the door wide 
 open with impulsiveness. "I don't know who 
 ought to tend this door and I thought it might 
 be you." 
 
 He did not answer, but stood and looked at 
 her. She wore the full uniform of the Salva- 
 tion Army, even to the bonnet, and somehow 
 for a moment it disconcerted him. He had not 
 thought of her in that guise.
 
 358 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "There isn't any parlor, Mr. Gait," she said, 
 in a low voice. "Perhaps we could walk on the 
 street. I am all ready." 
 
 "Yes, we will walk on the street." 
 
 "I thought you wasn't coming, Mr. Gait. I 
 thought " She stopped, in an embarrassed 
 way. 
 
 "I was delayed," he answered, and they 
 started down the hot street in silence. 
 
 He found himself casting glances at her. 
 This was not Isobel Carniston. Something 
 was different. There was a restraint about 
 her that he had never seen before, something 
 tense that he felt yet could not interpret. 
 There was a strange shyness, almost nervous- 
 ness, about her. Perhaps it was the uniform. 
 He had heard that an entirely new character 
 sometimes came to a man through the donning 
 of a policeman's uniform. There was even a 
 different tone in her voice when she spoke. 
 
 "You are not sick, Mr. Gait?" she asked, 
 timidly. 
 
 "Why, no, indeed." 
 
 "You look sick and changed." 
 
 "Do I?" 
 
 A sudden impulse born of the look on her 
 face came over him to confess it all to her. 
 He had been fighting all alone and he needed
 
 THY SOUL SHALT SAVE 359 
 
 human sympathy. There was in his heart a 
 cry that was imperious and would not be denied 
 for a confessor. 
 
 "I have had a great shock," he said, after a 
 moment, "and it has been almost more than I 
 could bear. I didn't sleep much last night." 
 
 "I am sorry you saw it," she said, in a low 
 tone. 
 
 "Saw what?" He glanced up with a start. 
 
 "The paper." 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 "I am sorry, Mr. Gait, that I brought this to 
 you." There was a tremor in the voice. "I 
 told you that first night to let me go, and you 
 ought to." 
 
 "You need not be sorry at all, Miss Carnis- 
 ton," he said. "I am not." 
 
 "But it is such a lie, Mr. Gait. I don't see 
 how they could have said it of you." 
 
 He did not answer. She glanced up at him 
 furtively. The haggard appearance of the 
 man, the utter dejection written in his every 
 feature were to her as accusing fingers point- 
 ing at her soul. It revealed as she had never 
 felt it before the awful gulf between them. 
 The mere falsehood that he had allied himself 
 with her had laid hold of him like a fever and 
 had changed him so she hardly knew him.
 
 360 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "I am sorry you saw the paper," he said, at 
 length. 
 
 "But you can prove it is a lie, the whole of 
 it," she cried. "I have thought about it a lot, 
 and we can prove it." 
 
 "It's not worth while," he said, absently. 
 
 She looked up at him quickly, but she did not 
 speak. Then they walked again in silence. 
 
 "I want to tell you what happened last night, 
 Mr. Gait," she began at length in low voice. 
 "They took me out with them and played on 
 their instruments and talked and prayed, and 
 along late in the evening they wanted me to 
 sing. So I sang a song I knew when I was a 
 little girl, and then they wanted me to tell my 
 experience and I told what I had been, and how 
 you came that night and how you stood by me 
 and helped me, and all that you said to me, 
 and Oh, Mr. Gait, I don't know what I said, 
 but a woman came a bad woman and cried 
 and asked me to help her, and I was frightened 
 and I had to talk with her." 
 
 "What did you tell her?" he asked, a quiver 
 in his voice. 
 
 "All I could say was what you said to me 
 and she wouldn't leave me and they had me 
 take her home, and Oh, Mr. Gait, what shall I 
 tell her ? She's there now."
 
 THY SOUL SHALT SAVE 361 
 
 "God bless you, sister." The tears were 
 streaming down the pastor's cheeks now. 
 "God has given you your work." 
 
 "But, Mr. Gait, you must talk to her. I 
 can't. I" 
 
 "No, sister, that's your work. God has 
 given it to you, and only you can do it. Thank 
 God he has shown you your work, and thank 
 God you have shown me mine." 
 
 She looked up at him uncomprehendingly 
 and he saw tears on the long lashes. There 
 was beauty in the face now, the beauty that 
 comes only with the soul. 
 
 "I mean that God has used you to lift me up 
 and to point me to my work," he said, a great 
 wave of feeling sweeping over him. 
 
 "I don't understand," she said, and they did 
 not speak again until they were back before her 
 door. 
 
 "Good-by." He turned to her impulsively, 
 and took her outstretched hand. "I, too, am 
 going to work among the fallen," he said, in- 
 tensely. "I, too, have found my weakness, and 
 have triumphed over it." 
 
 She was looking at him with wide eyes; she 
 did not understand. 
 
 "I sent my resignation this morning and I 
 am not going back," he went on, impetuously.
 
 362 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "I am going to find somewhere a needy spot 
 and give myself absolutely. I am going to do 
 mission work in the darkest spot of some dark 
 city." 
 
 "Really, Mr. Gait?" She turned to him, im- 
 pulsively, a swift burst of joy in her eyes. 
 
 "Yes, God helping me, from now on that is 
 to be my work my only work." 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Gait !" For a moment the passion 
 within her beat down all barriers. "Take me. 
 I can work. I can help you. I'll do anything 
 everything. I'll give my whole life every- 
 thing. Oh, won't you?" She held her hands 
 out to him, every fibre in her body trembling 
 in wild entreaty. 
 
 "No, no, sister." There was sadness in the 
 voice now. It was as if he were talking to a 
 child who could not know what she asked. 
 "That would not be best now. Your work is 
 right here. It's best that we work alone, best 
 for both of us." 
 
 "Oh!" The word was a sob. She turned 
 swiftly and covered her face with her hands. 
 "I forgot," she choked. "For just a minute I 
 forgot. O my God !" 
 
 "There is only one thing now," he went on, 
 his voice tremulous with emotion. "Work. 
 Lose yourself in work, sister, as I am going to
 
 THY SOUL SHALT SAVE 363 
 
 do. It is the only way for us both. And, 
 thank God, you have your work right here. 
 Thank God for that. It is best for you not to 
 know even where I am, to lose me, absolutely. 
 It is best. But be true, sister. Do your very 
 best for my sake and for Christ's sake. Live 
 just a day at a time and remember that what- 
 ever is best for us is sure to come some time. 
 Some time we may be able to help each other 
 again. Until then God bless you. Good-by." 
 And before she could speak he was gone. 
 
 That night in his room in a cheap lodging- 
 house in the tenement section Gait fell upon his 
 knees in prayer for the first 'time since he had 
 left Frieda Paine the afternoon before.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 THE FIELD IS THE WORLD 
 
 GALT began upon his new work that very 
 day, and it was with a lighter heart than 
 he had had for weeks. He was free as never 
 before in his whole life; he was free as his 
 Master had been free. He could work now in- 
 deed with no one to obey save Him to whom 
 he had surrendered his life. 
 
 He began with a study of the situation. He 
 would take as his field that part of the city 
 where the need was the greatest, where no other 
 worker had cared to go, and, after he had care- 
 fully investigated the matter for a week, he de- 
 cided that that field was the negro section of 
 the West End. It was not to be a simple going 
 to them, a reaching down of his hand from a 
 vantage point above ; it was to be an actual liv- 
 ing with them. He found a small room in the 
 very heart of the section, a room high up in a 
 ricketty tenement-house, and he made it at once 
 his headquarters and his home. He would be- 
 come one of them, and live their life and share 
 
 364
 
 THE FIELD IS THE WORLD 365 
 
 their misery and their poverty, and little by lit- 
 tle he would know them and their ways and 
 their outlook and their ideals. He would go 
 slowly at first. He would make his mission 
 work grow out of their actual needs as he dis- 
 covered them; he would come into their life so 
 gradually that it would be a natural growth 
 and so at length an influence that would be 
 strong and permanent. He had no organiza- 
 tion to satisfy, no rival workers to equal or sur- 
 pass, no reports to make. He would, even as 
 his Master did, simply go about doing good. 
 
 That summer and autumn was John Gait's 
 apprentice period in hand-to-hand Christian 
 work, in Applied Christianity as he phrased it 
 to himself, and gradually it changed his whole 
 conception of life and society. Before he had 
 been in his field a week he was overwhelmed 
 with the magnitude of the work to be done, 
 work all of it of the most practical kind. It 
 brought him at once into personal contact with 
 disease and squalor and crime. There was no 
 time for preaching now save to single souls 
 whom he found helpless or near to death. His 
 mission work at first took the form of watch- 
 ing with the sick, of gathering groups of little 
 children from the alleys on hot afternoons and 
 taking them to a park, of becoming personally
 
 366 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 acquainted with squalid families and teaching 
 them better sanitation and methods of living. 
 No one thought of him as a minister: he was 
 only a very kind man who was sure to come 
 around just when he could help. And he 
 threw himself into the work with his whole 
 soul. He joyed in it. He was unknown, ab- 
 solutely; it was as if he had dropped from an- 
 other world, and they asked no questions. 
 And those of his old life had lost all trace of 
 him. He had disappeared utterly. There 
 were many of his old parishioners who actually 
 believed that he was living in New York with 
 Isobel Carniston. He had burned his bridges : 
 he read no papers and he received no mail. 
 This was to be his home for the rest of his life ; 
 this was the field that God had placed in his 
 care, and he would give himself utterly as long 
 as he had the strength to give. 
 
 It was late in the autumn, just before 
 Thanksgiving, when Gait next saw Isobel 
 Carniston. A storm was over the city, a blast 
 of coarse snow that hissed over the roofs and 
 against signs and windows. Darkness had 
 fallen early. Gait had been called to the north 
 end of the city, and was hastening along not 
 far from the North Station, when his eye fell 
 on a huddling group of men in a narrow street.
 
 THE FIELD IS THE WORLD 367 
 
 It was unusual on such a night. There was no 
 fighting, for the men were perfectly silent and 
 there were no policemen in evidence. Quickly 
 he crossed over to investigate: it might be an 
 accident and he might be helpful. A moment, 
 and he heard a woman's voice two voices 
 blending perfectly, one a soprano and the other 
 a glorious alto. 
 
 He pressed nearer. They were Salvation 
 Army sisters, he could see the uniforms now 
 and the banners asking funds for the annual 
 Thanksgiving dinner for needy children. 
 Then with a start he recognized Isobel Carnis- 
 ton. The light of a saloon entrance was in 
 her face and there was no concealing that mass 
 of marvellous hair. The words came to him 
 now in full chord : 
 
 "He was despised and forsaken, 
 Homeless, rejected, and poor." 
 
 A lump came into the throat of John Gait. 
 And this was Isobel Carniston, singing in the 
 darkness and the storm of Him who was de- 
 spised and forsaken, this woman whom he 
 had snatched from under the car wheels a 
 snarling, desperate thing with every man's 
 hand against her. 
 
 The song ended and then she who seemed to
 
 368 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 be the leader, a frail, little woman, with a sweet 
 smile, broke into a ringing address : 
 
 "Go home, every one of you," she cried, "and 
 get something ready for Thanksgiving for your 
 wives and children, and if you haven't got any 
 put the money into this box and help some 
 hungry little kid to have a square meal once in 
 his life on Thanksgiving Day. You take that 
 money that's in your pockets for you to blow 
 in to-night on booze to pour down your throats 
 to bring damnation to you and wretchedness to 
 everyone around you, and you put it in this 
 box where it won't do you harm any more and 
 where it will make somebody happy for a whole 
 day. Then you steer away from that saloon 
 and go home and live lives you won't have to 
 be ashamed of when Jesus Christ comes here 
 by and by and calls your name." 
 
 "Sing something else," spoke up a voice. 
 
 "Yes, sing," they all echoed. 
 
 "Well, we'll sing just once more, but before 
 we sing we are going to pass the box right 
 around this congregation, and every mother's 
 son of you is going to put something in, and it 
 isn't going to be any of your amalgamated cop- 
 per either. We want free silver." 
 
 The passing of the box was Isobel Carniston's 
 task. Gait watched her narrowly. She moved
 
 THE FIELD IS THE WORLD 369 
 
 with confidence and dignity, and she looked 
 them straight in the eyes. Strength now was 
 in that erect figure and new beauty was in her 
 face. There was not a rude remark or a vile 
 look as she passed through the group. They 
 seemed to reverence her as one who had come 
 to them to lift them into a purer world. Sev- 
 eral took off their hats as they dropped in their 
 coins. Then the two sang again, and there was 
 not a movement in the group until the last full 
 chord had ceased. 
 
 "Soul of mine in earthly temple, 
 Why not here content abide? 
 
 'Why art thou forever pleading? 
 Why art thou not satisfied ?' " 
 
 And then the full burst, the soprano and the 
 glorious alto blending as if it were one voice : 
 
 "I shall be satisfied, 
 I shall be satisfied, 
 When I awake in His likeness." 
 
 Gait's eyes were brimming with tears when 
 they finished. Never had he heard a song that 
 so chorded with all that was within him. And 
 this was the woman who had faced him in the 
 park like a mad dog. "Break her heart and 
 she will sing divinely," had been said once of 
 Jennie Lind, and here truly was a broken and
 
 370 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 contrite heart, a life transformed, singing di- 
 vinely and leading men. Such a miracle could 
 come only from the spirit of God. 
 
 He hastened after them. 
 
 "Pardon me, Miss Carniston," he said, 
 breathlessly as he reached them. "But I can't 
 go away without thanking you from my heart 
 for that song." 
 
 "Why why it's Mr. Gait!" she gasped, 
 every particle of blood leaping from her cheeks. 
 
 "Yes, I heard your song and it was beautiful ; 
 it lifted me." 
 
 "Captain Carey, I want you to meet Mr. 
 Gait," she said, in a strained voice. 
 
 "I am very glad to meet you," the little 
 woman said, brightly. "I have heard very 
 much about you in the last few months." 
 
 "But you are sick, Mr. Gait." The girl had 
 recovered her self-possession now. "Why, I 
 shouldn't have known you if it hadn't been for 
 your voice. You are really sick." 
 
 "Oh, no, indeed. I haven't been sick a mo- 
 ment this summer." 
 
 "But you are changed." 
 
 "Perhaps it's my clothes," he laughed. 
 
 "No, Mr. Gait," she said, slowly, and there 
 was a quiver in the voice. "You are not well, 
 you are working too hard, you are killing
 
 THE FIELD IS THE WORLD 371 
 
 yourself working and you mustn't. I wish 
 you would tell us about your work, Mr. Gait." 
 
 "Oh, I have a little parish over on the West 
 Side, one all of my own," he said, lightly. 
 
 "And you have taken another church?" 
 
 "Oh, no, indeed. I'm simply working where 
 there's work, and that's about everywhere, isn't 
 it ?" he added, smilingly, turning to her as to a 
 fellow-worker who could understand. 
 
 "Yes," she said. She was glancing up at 
 him furtively, a strange lump in her throat. 
 She noticed how deep set and dark were his 
 eyes and how bright were the spots in his 
 cheeks. 
 
 "But really I've been thinking of forming 
 something like a church," he went on, seriously. 
 "I have formed a little group that gathers 
 around me now on Sundays and I have organ- 
 ized classes of children and a little Sunday- 
 school, and I even have a preaching service and 
 a prayer-meeting. Really, do you know, I am 
 thinking of organizing into a kind of mission or 
 church, if you can call it so ? You can work on 
 absolutely new ground with no organization, 
 but it is not long before the organized body be- 
 comes imperative." 
 
 "And what classes are you working with?" 
 the little captain asked, brightly.
 
 372 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "Negroes mostly, but there's everybody 
 mixed in, and, by the way," he added quickly, 
 "they like singing above all things in the world. 
 Can't you two come down, it's just this min- 
 ute occurred to me, come down and sing to 
 them? You could help us amazingly. Come 
 down next Sunday." 
 
 "Why, yes " Miss Carniston began, then 
 stopped in confusion. 
 
 "We shall be glad to come down if we can 
 help," Miss Carey said, simply. 
 
 "Good. We'll call it next Sunday at two 
 o'clock." 
 
 And that was the real beginning of the Mary 
 Magdalene Mission.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE MARY MAGDALENE MISSION 
 
 AGAIN it was March and again the east 
 wind cut searchingly through the alleys 
 and howled around the tenements. Gait was 
 not well. Early in February he had been for 
 two weeks in the hospital with a sharp attack 
 of bronchitis. He was out again now, but with 
 a hacking cough and a shortness of breath 
 that made the four flights up to his room seem 
 interminable. Yet not for a moment was he 
 pausing in his work. It was a mission building 
 now that was driving him. He had outgrown 
 long ago the narrow little room that he had 
 hired for his meetings and he had determined 
 to go to every business man and property- 
 holder in the district for subscriptions toward 
 a proper building or at least a suite of rooms 
 for the enlargement of his work. There should 
 be a hall, and rooms for amusements, and a 
 sort of restaurant where men could gather in- 
 stead of at the saloons ; then if possible it should 
 
 373
 
 374 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 be made a refuge for homeless wanderers 
 stranded for the night and for all who were in 
 trouble. Such a mission, he argued, would 
 make the whole district better and would make 
 all the property more valuable. Business men 
 ought to contribute to it gladly if only for self- 
 ish reasons. 
 
 But the work went hard. The business men 
 of a street do not act upon impulse and they do 
 not throw money into schemes of reform where 
 the returns are at best only problematical. It 
 required time and enthusiasm and hard work 
 to make even a start upon his venture, and his 
 efforts exhausted him so completely that on 
 some afternoons he was not able to go out at 
 all. One noon he went to sleep at the table in 
 his room while he was eating the sandwiches 
 that he had brought from a restaurant. He 
 had been up all the night before with a delirious 
 fever patient two floors below and was com- 
 pletely worn out. Even a sharp knock at the 
 door within two feet of where he sat did not 
 arouse him. Then the door opened and a hand 
 fell upon his shoulder. 
 
 "Why why, Dick!" he gasped, looking up 
 with wild eyes as if at a vision. 
 
 "God's sake, Johnny, is this you ?" He seized 
 the pastor's hand and looked at him eagerly. 

 
 MARY MAGDALENE MISSION 375 
 
 "It is you, Dick, isn't it?" He was still look- 
 ing at him wonderingly, his eyes full of sleep. 
 
 "You bet it is, but, my God, Johnny, what 
 have you been doing? You look like a dead 
 fish." 
 
 "Oh, I'm all right." He clung to Dick's 
 hand, pathetically. There was a quiver in his 
 voice. 
 
 "You are not all right. Why, you won't last 
 three months here." He turned him about 
 and looked at him sharply. "Johnny, you are 
 going to march right out of this inside of fif- 
 teen minutes." 
 
 "No, Dick." 
 
 "You just wait and see what you do. After 
 all I've hunted I'm riled up." 
 
 "Have you hunted for me, Dick?" He 
 looked at him, wonderingly. Whenever he 
 had thought of Dick he had pictured him as 
 still touring with Miss Thost, or married per- 
 haps and off on his honeymoon. 
 
 "Hunted? Johnny, I've scoured this coun- 
 try all the fall and winter with a fine comb." 
 He dropped into a chair by the bed and auto- 
 matically fumbled for a cigar. "You told 
 Marks that you were going into mission work 
 in New York or Chicago or San Francisco and 
 I've had all three of 'em swept and garnished."
 
 376 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 "How did you find me, Dick?" 
 
 "Accident, pure luck. Happened to be talk- 
 ing yesterday to Avery of the Record and he 
 let slip that you said Queen Isobella was in Bos- 
 ton in the Salvation Army. It was easy after 
 that." 
 
 "You saw her?" 
 
 "First thing. Devilish pretty girl, Johnny. 
 The bonnet sets her off like a duchess." 
 
 "And she told you where I was ?" 
 
 "Yes!" He was blinking reminiscently 
 through the smoke. 
 
 "Dick, she's worth all it cost. She's the most 
 effective worker they've got. I wish you could 
 hear her and her roommate sing some night 
 on the street, with a crowd about her listening 
 as if she was an angel. It would bring a lump 
 into your throat. You know they put new re- 
 cruits under the care of older workers who live 
 with them all the time and train them. This 
 Miss Carey, who has had Miss Carniston in 
 charge, is one of the sweetest souls in the city." 
 
 Dick smoked in silence seemingly oblivious of 
 the pastor. Suddenly he blew out a great blast 
 of smoke and sat erect. 
 
 "Johnny," he said, explosively. "You made 
 a fool of yourself, a damn fool. Nothing else 
 will express it. You ought to have a guardian.
 
 MARY MAGDALENE MISSION 377 
 
 My God, I wish I'd been there just two 
 hours." 
 
 "Where?" He looked up, wonderingly. 
 
 "I never knew a thing of it," he went on, 
 stormily, "till it was all over, and then it was 
 too late. Why, man, you had 'em by the neck. 
 They were scared to death. If you had hung 
 to 'em just one day longer you would have had 
 the whole bunch crawling on their bellies to 
 you and licking your boots, and you ran away 
 right in the climax of the fifth act when the 
 house would have given you anything on earth 
 you wanted. And your running away just as 
 much as said, 'All your charges are true, gen- 
 tlemen. I think I'll skip bail.' " 
 
 "There was nothing else to do, Dick. If you 
 knew the whole story " 
 
 "Stop it, Johnny," he roared. "I know what 
 you're going to say, and I can't stand it." He 
 arose and paced the floor, puffing at his cigar 
 fiercely. "My God, but it was a shame." 
 
 "What did they do?" 
 
 "Do? Why, the fifteen you turned out made 
 some little flutter, but most of 'em are rein- 
 stated now, and they have got a fat little 'yes, 
 yes' man who pleases the ladies, and everything 
 is smooth as oil. You are the villain in the 
 church history whose name is to be spoken by
 
 378 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 the timid with a shudder; that's all your pas- 
 torate amounted to. Oh, if I had only been 
 there, minding my business as I ought to have 
 been! I'm the one to blame, Johnny. You 
 didn't know any better and I did. And to think 
 I should have run away to Europe like a dodder- 
 ing fool just at that minute." 
 
 "When did you get back, Dick?" Gait was 
 not listening to the running tirade. The image 
 of Helda Thost was in his eyes. By some wild 
 suggestion she had taken possession of him 
 again, and an impulse insistent and compelling 
 was upon him to pour upon the man the flood of 
 eager questions that was pent up in his heart. 
 He had seen her recently, he had been with her, 
 he knew where she was at this instant, he knew 
 her heart and her life. But he was swiftly mas- 
 ter of himself. 
 
 "I was gone just six weeks, Johnny," he an- 
 swered, "and I had intended to be gone only 
 two." He sank back into the chair again and 
 began to smoke more and more slowly. 
 
 "I am glad you could take the vacation," the 
 pastor said, weakly. "You needed it. And 
 with her " he stopped himself suddenly. 
 
 "Umh !" murmured Dick, and for a long time 
 they sat in silence, the smoke from the cigar 
 curling ever more and more faintly.
 
 MARY MAGDALENE MISSION 379 
 
 "This is a queer world, Johnny," he said at 
 length. 
 
 "What do you mean?" Gait faced the man 
 eagerly, a strange beating in his throat. 
 
 "I mean that I wasn't the one," he said 
 slowly. 
 
 "Dick!" 
 
 "I was a fool, Johnny, that's the long and 
 short of it, just an ordinary dum fool." 
 
 "Where is she now, Dick?" 
 
 "She's in New York City, and that's where 
 you and I are going to be just about to-morrow 
 morning. Now, I'll give you just thirty min- 
 utes to dress yourself and pack that grip. Hit 
 it up, Johnny." 
 
 "Don't, Dick." His heart was fluttering un- 
 til it almost choked him. For a single wild mo- 
 ment everything within cried out in exultation. 
 He would go instantly she was waiting for 
 him she was true but it was only for a min- 
 ute. 
 
 "I shall not go, Dick," he said, thickly. 
 "My life-work is right here with my peo- 
 ple." 
 
 "Oh, for God's sake, be a man. Brace 
 up- 
 
 "No, Dick, I mean just what I say. Come 
 with me." He arose as by a sudden impulse
 
 380 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 and got his hat and coat. "I want to show 
 you my work, I want to show you my peo- 
 ple." Dick followed him, characteristically 
 storming and pleading and even swearing, but 
 the man was firm. 
 
 "Dick, you know me well enough to know 
 that when I say a thing I mean it." 
 
 "But take a vacation, Johnny ; get out of this 
 just a week three days. It's killing you by 
 inches. You are a dead man if you don't get 
 out of this and right off." 
 
 "No, Dick, my work is in such condition that 
 I can't leave it a moment. We are at a crit- 
 ical point. We have got to have rooms, and 
 down on the corner is just the place. It's to be 
 vacated very soon and we have the option on it 
 for just a week more. We simply have got to 
 raise the money, Dick. Now this is our old 
 room; see it? Just about space enough to turn 
 around in. We can't get a quarter of the chil- 
 dren in here on a Sunday morning, to say noth- 
 ing of the parents. We could get hundreds if 
 we only had the room. The children are wild 
 over it and the parents are getting interested. 
 We want a place big enough for everybody to 
 come to, where these poor people of the tene- 
 ments can have a place to bring their friends 
 and have a social time with music and enter-
 
 MARY MAGDALENE MISSION 381 
 
 tainment, where they can get a cup of coffee 
 and a sandwich if they want it, and be able to 
 enjoy themselves in decent surroundings. We 
 could make it just as attractive as a saloon. 
 Then we want it to be a rescue station for those 
 who are down and out and have no place to go 
 to a sort of Jerry McAuliffe Mission and 
 Florence Crittenden Home combined. Then 
 we want an out-of-doors playground connected 
 with it. It will take money, but it will be worth 
 ten times over what it costs. Come and see the 
 rooms, Dick." 
 
 The pastor's enthusiasm grew as he went on. 
 The old fire was in his eyes. 
 
 "It was the children who suggested it," he 
 went on, eagerly. "When I saw the little chil- 
 dren playing in the gutters on Sunday, coming 
 up absolutely without moral restraint or re- 
 ligious training as the savages in the jungles of 
 Africa, learning those things that could only 
 drive them into lives of crime, I could not sleep 
 nights. I was compelled to go to them and 
 gather them into little groups and win their 
 confidence, and before I knew it I had a Sun- 
 day-school. And then there were the mothers, 
 poor feeble things, the most of them, whose 
 husbands were worthless or in prison, and they 
 without means of support ah, this is the field,
 
 382 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 Dick, and it's white for the harvest if there 
 ever was a field that was white." 
 
 "Wait, Johnny." Dick stopped short. For 
 a long time he had said nothing. "I don't 
 want to see your rooms. I'll take your word 
 for 'em. What I want is a restaurant, one 
 where you can get a square meal that's all 
 right. There's one right over across here. 
 Come on." 
 
 "But, Dick, the rooms are only " 
 
 "Chuck the rooms ; come on." 
 
 An hour later over the black coffee Dick 
 leaned suddenly over the table with a curious 
 expression on his face. 
 
 "Johnny," he said, impressively, "there's no 
 use trying to budge you, I know that. A 
 balky horse is nothing to what you are when 
 you make up your mind. The only thing to do 
 is to take another tack, so I'm going to take it 
 now, Johnny. I'm going to make my will and 
 I want you to take down every word. As 
 you know, I haven't a soul dependent on 
 me in the world, except Freddie, and 
 Freddie's fixed all right. Last month I got 
 two thousand dollars out of a single will 
 case, and it was only fun for me to put the case 
 through. I haven't any use for money, and 
 I've got more than is good for me. Now I am
 
 MARY MAGDALENE MISSION 383 
 
 going to tell you what to do: You go ahead 
 and hire this concern and fit it up to suit you 
 and you hand the first year's bill in to me." 
 
 "Dick why it's too much I " He choked 
 and stopped. 
 
 "Chuck it, Johnny, I'm not doing this for 
 nothing. There's a string to it. Wait till you 
 hear my conditions." 
 
 "Conditions ?" he echoed. 
 
 "Yes, I am to do this only on one condition : 
 you are to have one month to set the thing in 
 order and to get it running and then you are 
 to take two months' vacation in some first-class 
 country resort" 
 
 The pastor looked at him with brimming eyes 
 and he did not speak. 
 
 "Do you accept the conditions, Johnny?" 
 
 "I can't do otherwise, Dick," he said, slowly. 
 "They need it so." 
 
 "But you need the vacation a dum sight 
 worse, old man. And remember I shall hold 
 you to the conditions." 
 
 "And you'll come down to the opening, 
 Dick?" The pastor looked up at him, eagerly. 
 
 "Oh, I'll be down. You'll see me oftener 
 than you want to from now on. I know where 
 you are now. So long, old man. Now let up 
 on yourself just all you can, for really, Johnny,
 
 384 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 you are in bad shape, and if you want really to 
 help these people here you will take good care of 
 yourself. Good-by." And he had left him, 
 not, however, without misgivings. But there 
 was -really nothing else to do. He knew the 
 pastor well enough to know that there was no 
 moving him when once he had made up his 
 mind. He would go on with his work even 
 though he knew that death would be the price 
 of the labor, and there was nothing to do but 
 to let him. 
 
 The next month was the most joyous in 
 Gait's whole life. He was preparing for the 
 grand opening on the fifteenth of April. First, 
 he would furnish the rooms, and to give the dis- 
 trict a feeling of proprietorship in the venture 
 he called for donations of chairs and tables and 
 books and dishes. The result amazed him. 
 The neighborhood knew the man now and all 
 seemed eager to help him in the new venture. 
 Everywhere he went he disseminated enthusi- 
 asm. The fish-dealer on the corner sent a 
 chamber-set, the Italian fruit-vender furnished 
 a table, the grocer sent dishes, everybody 
 brought something, even a negro bootblack who 
 had only a bottle of shoe polish. It was really 
 wonderful to see how the squalid little district 
 awoke into life.
 
 MARY MAGDALENE MISSION 385 
 
 Gait was everywhere; the whole burden of 
 the work fell upon him. It was for him to su- 
 perintend the repairs and the alterations and 
 the cleaning, to plan the scope of the work and 
 to organize it, to find workmen and to keep 
 them busy, to order the furnishings and to put 
 them in place, and to make ready for the open- 
 ing exercises of the final day. The children 
 were to give a little concert, the hall was to be 
 trimmed with flowers and branches and bunt- 
 ing, and over one end there was to be hung in 
 letters of green the Mission motto: 
 
 "GOD CARES. THERE IS HOPE YET." 
 
 For a week Gait scarcely slept. Only the 
 excitement and the urge of the work kept him 
 on his feet. On Friday he was to take a band 
 of children on a trolley ride out to where they 
 could get green branches and daisies and ever- 
 green ; on Saturday they were to trim the hall ; 
 and on Sunday afternoon the great event was 
 to take place. Miss Carniston and Miss Carey 
 were to come and sing; there was to be a little 
 orchestra which had been organized for the oc- 
 casion by one of the larger boys, and the chil- 
 dren were all to take part in something. Ev- 
 erywhere there was expectancy and eager dis-
 
 3 86 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 cussion. Every child the pastor met asked him 
 questions. Mothers looked out at him almost 
 reverently as they saw him leading their chil- 
 dren by the hand and talking to them anima- 
 tedly of the decorations and the programme. 
 
 "God bless the poor man," an old Irish 
 woman cried as she saw him. "He's too good 
 for the loikes of us. Do you see the look in his 
 eyes? We'd better be good to him while we 
 can, the poor dear." 
 
 Then swiftly, even before he had taken the 
 children out for the decorations, there had fal- 
 len the tragedy. God knows why it had to 
 come just then. It was in a distant part of the 
 city that it happened, the old story repeated al- 
 most every day in some city or other: a busy 
 crossing, an automobile rolling rapidly and 
 tooting its warning with disconcerting racket, 
 a sudden jumping back to avoid the terrible 
 thing and a falling straight before another 
 swiftly coming from the other direction. He 
 rolled over and over in the mud under the 
 bumping wheels and lay still, a moment, and 
 then a policeman was bearing him crushed and 
 limp to the curbing. 
 
 "Your name? your name?" he shouted, ex- 
 citedly, for it was evident that the man had 
 only a moment to live.
 
 MARY MAGDALENE MISSION 387 
 
 "Gait." 
 
 "And your address? your street? your 
 home?" 
 
 There was -no answer. The eyes were star- 
 ing, unseeingly. 
 
 "Who shall we send for?" He put his lips 
 close to the man's ear. "Who shall we tell? 
 Quick. We ought to send for somebody." 
 
 The lips moved almost inaudibly, but the po- 
 liceman caught the words: 
 
 "Carniston Salvation Arm " 
 
 And the soul of John Gait had burst from 
 the tenement that so feebly had held it. 
 
 An hour later Isobel Carniston was at the 
 telephone. There was a quiver in her voice, 
 yet coolness and mastery. 
 
 "Yes," she said. "He belongs here; he be- 
 longs to me. Send him to 43 Anson Street. 
 Send him to me, instantly. I shall be ready."
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 LOVE AND DEATH 
 
 HAVE you seen in the cathedral in Berne 
 the figure of the Magdalen bending over 
 the dead Christ? Unutterable anguish! grief 
 too deep for tears ! a sense of unworthiness that 
 bows her over the pitiful feet without courage 
 to seek the dead face! The pathetic figure 
 veiled in its clinging blackness, pouring out her 
 very soul in longing, in agony, in pity as she 
 looks on him as he lies in his abject moment, 
 his figure rigid from its ghastly death, the 
 tender heart that no man pitied stilled by the 
 tyranny of the strong, and all fled save one, 
 and she a sinner, oh, the pathos of it! O 
 love the most poignant because the most un- 
 selfish; O anguish unutterable because it shat- 
 ters the very springs of hope. Love in the 
 presence of death, there is the tragedy of hu- 
 man life. 
 
 Isobel Carniston's cry had at first been ex- 
 ultant. "Now he is mine!" God at last had 
 given him to her. To his people at the West
 
 LOVE AND DEATH 389 
 
 End he had simply disappeared. They would 
 never know. To all who had known him in his 
 earlier world he was already but a memory. 
 She a!0he knew the secret of his life. God's 
 own hand had given him to her. She had been 
 unworthy while he was alive to touch even the 
 hem of his garment, but now he was hers. His 
 grave should be to her a shrine that should be 
 hers alone forever. She would keep it green 
 and beautiful and covered with flowers. It 
 should be the home of her heart. 
 
 They had turned over to her the contents 
 of his pockets: a Bible and a worn key, that 
 was all. She took the stained, limp volume 
 into her hands almost reverently. It evidently 
 had been his companion for years. Almost ev- 
 ery passage, especially in the Gospels, had a 
 marginal comment upon it or a cross reference 
 or underlined words. 
 
 And this now was to be hers. Who else 
 could claim it ? And what a priceless treasure 
 it was ! She turned its leaves as if they were 
 God's own fingers. The man's whole life 
 breathed out of it ; while she had that book she 
 would constantly be in his presence. She 
 paused in her turning at a place where the page 
 was fairly black with interlinings. It was the 
 twentieth chapter of John, that marvellous
 
 390 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 chapter that tells how Mary Magdalene had 
 gone that morning in the darkness/tb the tomb 
 of her Master. She tried to maka out the 
 writing : iT^ 
 
 "The church dates from the cross, and the 
 first step after the cross was made by a woman." 
 
 "She went in the dark; only love casts out 
 fear." 
 
 "The first message of hope after death was 
 brought by a woman." 
 
 "To a woman was given Christ's first com- 
 mission, go and say." 
 
 "He had forgotten the seven devils ; to Him 
 it is not deeds done, but the possibilities latent 
 in the life. Ps. 103:12." 
 
 "The task falls from his hands to be picked 
 up by a woman." 
 
 "A woman transfigured." 
 
 "Go to my brethren. Go to my brethren. 
 Go to my brethren" 
 
 "Touch me not; i. e., think not of your own 
 love and joy, but go, share, let others know the 
 blessedness." 
 
 She looked up from her reading and her eyes 
 fell on the worn key. It was the key to his 
 room, undoubtedly. Who was to pick up his 
 little belongings, and who was to have them? 
 And what of his people in the little neighbor-
 
 
 hood that he had made his home? What of 
 them? Tftey were even now joyously prepar- 
 ing to decorate the little Mission room for the 
 SkoSarai opening. The tears for the first time 
 came to her eyes as she thought of it. The lit- 
 tle children loved him. 
 
 Then had come a thought that drove the 
 blood from her cheeks and set her heart to flut- 
 tering as if it were trying to escape. God had 
 sent her this key to his room, and with it the 
 key to his work. He was dead : the work had 
 fallen from his shoulders upon hers. 
 
 She dropped upon her knees almost in terror, 
 so tremendously had the conviction swept over 
 her. She tried to pray, but the words she had 
 read were beating in her ears: "Go to my 
 brethren. Go to my brethren." "Think not 
 of your own love and joy; but go, share, let 
 others know the blessedness." 
 
 She arose with a look of triumph on her 
 face. 
 
 "I will go," she said, her head erect, her 
 hands clasped tight as in prayer. "We will 
 have the funeral in the Mission, and God help- 
 ing me I will take his work and make it what 
 he dreamed it might be." 
 
 There were tears on the long lashes, but there 
 was glory in the face now. It was the soul ris-
 
 392 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 ing at last over the body in perfect mastery; 
 it was the moment of victory supreme over 
 tears, the last radiant glimpse before the white 
 veil shuts out the world of the flesh forever. 
 
 THE END
 
 AN IMPORTANT AMERICAN NOVEL 
 
 THE MARRIAGE PORTION 
 
 By H. A. MITCHELL KEAYS 
 
 Author of "The Road to Damascus," "He That Eateth Bread 
 With Me." etc. 
 
 $1.35 net; by mail, $1.48 
 
 In her new book, which is by far her most important, Mrs. Keays 
 discusses her favorite theme marriage. She lays the scene of her 
 story in a modern university city which many readers will recog- 
 nize, and she portrays the life there with an unsparing, but just, 
 understanding. As usual, she develops her characters with unerring 
 skill. In fact, she depicts all her people, both admirable and other- 
 wise, so naturally, so truly, indeed so perfectly, that the delighted 
 reader will be inclined to believe that she writes of real living, 
 breathing, human beings, existing in the flesh in the shadow of a 
 great American university. 
 
 The story centers around Adela Cleave, a charming woman who, 
 after a brief marriage and an early widowhood, has won a consid- 
 erable reputation as an artist in Paris. Returning to her native land 
 to be with her father, an old and honored professor, she is at first 
 inclined to wonder whether life will offer in her new environment 
 so wide a scope for her interest in humanity as had been offered to 
 her delighted senses in Paris. But she early discovers that almost 
 without her knowing it her life is seemingly inextricably entangled 
 with the lives of a homogeneous yet strangely diverse social struct- 
 ure. Her father, " Daddy Mark," as she calls him, or Professor 
 Kay, as he is known to his colleagues, is a most lovable character, 
 and it is many years since we have had in fiction so keenly diverting 
 a person as Mrs. Heming, Adela Cleave's aunt, and a woman with 
 an infinite capacity for martyrdom. The interplay of interests in a 
 university community is alertly realized in the development of the 
 absorbing plot, which shows the gradual growth of as sweet and 
 tender a love-story as has been told by any American novelist. 
 
 SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY 
 Publishers. Boston
 
 AN UNUSUALLY POWERFUL NOVEL 
 
 HER HUSBAND 
 
 The Mystery of a Man 
 
 By JULIA MAGBUDEB 
 
 Author of "Princess Sonia," "A Heaven-Kissing Hill," etc., etc. 
 
 Illustrated by LUCIUS WOLCOTT HITCHCOCK 
 
 $1.35 net; by mail $1.48 
 
 This is Miss Magruder's most powerful novel; in fact, it is the 
 novel on which, in her own opinion, her literary reputation will rest. 
 In it she displays to the full her command of the arts of the story- 
 teller, her ability to lead the reader breathlessly from climax to 
 climax, her power as a delineator of character, her broad acquaint- 
 ance with human nature and her knowledge of how to express human 
 emotions to their last, tingling vibrations. 
 
 . The story centres around the puzzling character of Egbert Lothian. 
 And here indeed is a man who is a mystery from the very beginning 
 of the novel in his wooing, in his courtship, in his marriage to 
 the remarkable heroine of the story, the charming young Ameri- 
 can girl whom this interesting, distinguished Scotchman so capti- 
 vates in his married life and who grows more and more 
 remarkable and mystifying, even to his wife, as the romance goes 
 on, until near the close of the story the wife and the reader are 
 amazed and held breathless at a disclosure of which neither she nor 
 any one else had the slightest hint or conception. Through the 
 whole gamut of human emotions the girl in this novel passes, and 
 the reader follows her and the man at her side with wonder and 
 fascination. 
 
 During its publication in the columns of a current popular maga- 
 zine this novel created a storm of discussion. For serial purposes 
 the story was condensed to about half its length. In book form it 
 is now for the first time presented in its entirety. 
 
 SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY 
 Publishers, Boston
 
 A new novel by the author of " Happy Hawkins " 
 
 THE KNIGHT-ERRANT 
 
 By ROBERT ALEXANDER WASON 
 
 Author of "Happy Hawkins," etc., etc. 
 
 Illustrated by HANSON BOOTH 
 $1.25 net; by mail, $1.37 
 
 A modern, city-bred " Happy Hawkins," one Philip Lytton by 
 name, a young man with ample fortune and excellent ideas about 
 enjoying the good things in life, takes to heart the taunts of his 
 lady love and engages entertainingly in business. Making a failure 
 of it in his simple, blundering way he leaves New York to seek his 
 fortunes in the Far West. Here Mr. Wason takes us over familiar 
 ground in that country that he knows so well and has already written 
 about so engagingly in Happy Hawkins, the country which Dr. 
 Crothers so well names " the land of the large and charitable air." 
 
 Mr. Wason knows men and women, their strength and weakness, 
 their vices and virtues, and packed to the covers though it is with 
 incident, with suspense, with the essence of story interest, his new 
 book yet carries a strong moral. His fresh, spontaneous humor, 
 which the Nation has called " American humor in its best estate," 
 flashes everywhere. 
 
 Someone has compared a Wason book to the wildwood, with its 
 lights and shadows, its lilting melodies, its sudden storms, its joy- 
 ous freedom. Editors, publishers, his friends, his critics, have all 
 objected to an apparent lack of technique in Mr. Wason's writing; 
 but he continues to mingle humor and pathos, the dramatic and the 
 argumentative, the tender and the cynical, with all the prodigality 
 and originality of old Nature herself. Of stories there is no end; 
 but in addition to a real story, a Wason book gives the reader the 
 rare privilege of intimate association with a broad, sympathetic 
 and discriminating personality. It is not necessary to agree with 
 him he fattens on controversy and the reader who enters into 
 the spirit of it can find much of what Stevenson calls the joy of 
 mental wrestling. 
 
 SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY 
 Publishers, Boston
 
 A BULLY GOOD STORY! 
 
 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 By GEORGE C. SHEDD 
 
 Author of "The Princess of Forge," etc. 
 
 Illustrated by STANLEY L. WOOD 
 
 $1.25 net; by mail, $1.37 
 
 If Jimmy Dukane hadn't been a " good fellow," he wouldn't have 
 got into so much trouble and if he hadn't been a good fellow he 
 wouldn't have but that's the story ! 
 
 He had been easily acquiring the record as Perpetual Holiday- 
 Maker for Broadway, when well, " James A. Dukane, Sr., had, so 
 to speak, brought down his fist on the table with a bang. James A. 
 Dukane, Jr., had been under the fist and his eyes popped open very 
 wide indeed." Dukane and Company were in the concrete construc- 
 tion business and they were erecting a big dam clear out in Nevada. 
 The elder Dukane decided that the way to solve the problem of what 
 to do with Jimmy was to set him to work, so he sent him out to 
 " make a report " on the dam. He Dukane, Sr., then vamoosed 
 for Europe and left young Jimmy to work out his own salvation. 
 
 " The green tail-lights of the train flickered, faded, then with a 
 sudden mischievous wink altogether disappeared ; the last puffing 
 of the engine was like a hoarse chuckle. 
 
 " ' Dumped in a puddle at eleven o'clock at night/ Jimmy Dukane 
 vociferated resentfully. 
 
 "In the caravan just departed there was everything to comfort 
 the soul, to cheer the mind and moisten the palate bright lights, 
 snug chairs, jolly companions, a well-stocked buffet. Here? what 
 the deuce was here anyway except water? He faced about. A few 
 miserable beams of light escaped through the dingy depot window 
 out upon the wet platform and gleamed glassily along the rails; 
 some distance away in front of him glowed half a dozen misty, 
 luminous balls like swamp-lanterns, which he surmised to be 
 windows. 
 
 " ' The governor stung his son and heir this time/ he remarked in 
 immense disgust." 
 
 That was only the beginning of it. Things started to happen at 
 once and when Jimmy woke up in the morning in this little sage- 
 brush town of Meldon and found his clothes and money gone and 
 a tramp's raiment in their place with no money he was naturally 
 indignant. But his indignation fell on deaf ears. Nobody knew 
 him ; he knew nobody. He began to get hungry. What should he 
 do? 
 
 What would you do? 
 
 The story of what he did and incidentally of how he met a 
 charming girl by the name of Enid is one of the most delightful 
 that have fallen to the lot of the novel-reader in many a day. Youth 
 exuberant, unconquerable, " incorrigible " Youth is in, around 
 and over it all. 
 
 You will enjoy " The Incorrigible Dukane." 
 
 SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY 
 Publishers, Boston
 
 ADVENTURE-HEROISM-LOVE 
 
 THE LOSER PAYS 
 A Story of the French Revolution 
 
 By MARY OPENSHAW 
 
 Author of "The Cross of Honour" 
 
 $1.25 net; by mail, $1.37 
 
 In this, her second novel to be given to American readers, the 
 author of " The Cross of Honour " tells a fine, brave story that 
 will still further enhance the reputation won by her previous book. 
 " The Loser Pays " is the story of the devotion to love and duty of 
 no less a personage than Rouget de Lisle, the author of the " Mar- 
 seliaise." Many other writers have already taken the French Revo- 
 lution as their theme but Miss Openshaw is one of the few who have 
 made it vivid and human. In fact, it is not too much to say that no 
 one else, since Felix Gras wrote " The Reds of the Midi," has given 
 us a story of the French Revolution of so fine a quality. 
 
 " A stirring tale, capitally recounted." London Times. 
 
 "The possibilities of the Revolution in France as a subject of 
 fiction are almost infinite, but they have seldom been used with so 
 keen a dramatic perception and at the same time so just a regard 
 for the main outlines of history as in Miss Openshaw's book." 
 Glasgow Herald. 
 
 "The story is so fascinating that the reader closes the book only 
 when he has reached the last page. ' The Loser Pays ' will be suc- 
 cessful because the author has a good story to tell It may be rec- 
 ommended to all who like a dashing, romantic story full of inci- 
 dent." Glasgow Citizen. 
 
 " There is really fine description of the September massacres. The 
 story deserves more than a transient place among recent fiction of 
 the Great Revolution." The Outlook {London). 
 
 SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY 
 Publishers. Boston
 
 AN AMERICAN AND AN ENGLISH NOVEL OF 
 PERMANENT IMPORTANCE 
 
 THE ROAD TO DAMASCUS 
 
 By H. A. MITCHELL KEAYS 
 
 Author of "He That Eateth Bread with Me," etc. 
 $1.50 postpaid 
 
 The story of a young wife who, when it is proved to her that 
 another woman's boy should call her own husband father, adopts 
 the boy without ever letting her husband know. From this basic 
 theme Mrs. Keays develops a dramatic and powerful story, " the 
 finest novel of social import," says Mr. Percival Pollard, in his crit- 
 ical volume, " Their Day in Court," " written by an American woman 
 in recent times ; one of those rare books proving that all is not hope- 
 lessly chaff in the field of American fiction. ' The Road to Damas- 
 cus ' is a book, and contains a character, worthy of long life. The 
 character of Richarda in this book is one of the finest ever drawn by 
 an American woman ; the book itself has perhaps the broadest view 
 of life that has been shown on our side of the water." 
 
 " A novel of remarkable power. It grips the attention like an 
 Ibsen drama." New York Times. 
 
 " It is all true," says Dean Hodges, " true to human nature and 
 the laws of God." 
 
 "I took up the 'Road to Damascus' after dinner," says Ida M. 
 Tarbell, " and did not lay it down until the end. It is a fascinating 
 handling of a difficult problem a most successful handling, too." 
 
 BROKE OF COVENDEN 
 
 By J. C. SNAITH 
 
 Author of "Araminta," "Fortune," "Mistress Dorothy 
 Marvin," etc. 
 $1.50 postpaid 
 
 A remarkable novel, that makes ordinary fiction pale in com- 
 parison. Mr. Snaith has produced a book that holds its own among 
 those of Meredith, Dickens, and Thackeray. It is the story of an 
 English country family of the present day. " There is no living 
 writer in England or this country to whom it would not be a credit." 
 
 Springfield Republican. " Almost alone of recent English fic- 
 tion, it plays with equal mastery on all the stops of human emotion." 
 
 New York Times. "From the first moment Mr. Snaith makes 
 your attention his willing slave, you read with that rare vacillation 
 which urges you to hurry forward for the story and to linger for the 
 detail." Atlantic Monthly. "An exceedingly lively and diverting 
 tragic comedy of men and old acres. Mr. Snaith has invention, en- 
 ergy, and ideas of his own. He has courage and sympathy and the 
 sovereign faculty of interesting his readers in the fortunes of most 
 of his dramatis personae. The author has given us a delightful 
 heroine, a wholly original hero, and a great deal of entertainment, 
 for which we offer him our hearty thanks." London Spectator. 
 
 SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY 
 Publishers, Boston
 
 A novelist who not only always has a good story to tell, 
 but also has something to toy. 
 
 THE POPULAR NOVELS OF 
 FREDERICK ORIN BARTLETT 
 
 THE WEB OF THE GOLDEN SPIDER 
 
 Illustrated by HARRISON FISHER and CHARLES M. RELYEA 
 $1.50 postpaid 
 
 " ' The Web of the Golden Spider ' starts off with a bang. In- 
 deed there is no modern tale which contains so many astonishing 
 and unexpected turns." Philadelphia Inquirer. " Never did a ro- 
 mancer weave a more tangled web of mystery, entwined plots, dan- 
 ger and bewilderment." Cleveland Plain Dealer. " It will keep the 
 reader breathlessly interested from cover to cover." St. Louis 
 Globe-Democrat. 
 
 THE SEVENTH NOON 
 
 Illustrated by EDMUND FREDERICK 
 $1.50 postpaid 
 
 " Joy ! Eureka ! ! Jubilate ! ! ! 
 
 " Hail to you, Frederick Orin Bartlett, and also the top of the 
 morning. And may you write many more novels as fresh and ab- 
 sorbing as ' The Seventh Noon.' Yea, verily, for this novel really 
 hath a new and unhackneyed plot. 
 
 " The thrill-starved reader glues his eyes to the rapidly-turned 
 pages and halts not for food or sleeping. One vivid climax suc- 
 ceeds another, the scene ranging from the Waldorf-Astoria, to 
 Chinatown, from Riverside Drive out to the suburban bungalow 
 where Peter so narrowly, and for the second time, escapes murder. 
 And the dramatic end, which not for worlds would this gratified 
 reviewer disclose untimely, is all that might be hoped from the good 
 and galloping action ' not lost but gone before.' " Chicago Record- 
 Herald. 
 
 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 Illustrated by HOWARD CHANDLER CHRISTY 
 
 $1.50 postpaid 
 
 The gayest, most spirited story for many a year, with a deep 
 undercurrent of fine humanity. " Unquestionably one of the most 
 charming comedies of human people we have had for a long time." 
 New York Herald. 
 
 "Once in a while comes a story that is just the sort to finish 
 at a sitting, satisfied. Such a novel is Mr. Bartlett's latest. He 
 has given us a most delightful story in ' The Prodigal Pro Tern.' " 
 Boston Transcript. 
 
 " A love story of graceful charm, with a heroine who's sweetly 
 womanly, and with a hero we like heartily. As there is also humor 
 in the book, lots of true, happy humor of the best American variety, 
 and as the author's style is full of life and picturesqueness in sim- 
 plicity, one recommends ' The Prodigal Pro Tern.' " Chicago Inter- 
 Ocean. 
 
 SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY, 
 Publishers, Boston
 
 STANDARD AMERICAN HUMOR 
 
 By GEORGE HORACE LORIMER 
 
 LETTERS FROM A SELF-MADE MERCHANT 
 TO HIS SON 
 
 A book in perpetual demand one of the best pieces of humor 
 and philosophy that America has produced. 
 
 Illustrated by F. R. GRUGER 
 $1.50 postpaid 
 
 By FINLEY PETER DUNNE 
 
 MR. DOOLEY IN PEACE AND WAR 
 
 MR. DOOLEY IN THE HEARTS OF HIS 
 
 COUNTRYMEN 
 
 Two volumes that have never lost their hold on the affections of 
 the American public. 
 
 Each, $1.25 postpaid 
 
 By HOLMAN F. DAY 
 
 KIN O'KTAADN 
 
 PINE TREE BALLADS 
 
 UP IN MAINE 
 
 Holman Day's famous books have made him the laureate of the 
 Down East Yankee. 
 
 Each, illustrated, $1.00 net; by mail, $1.10 
 
 By ELLIS PARKER BUTLER 
 
 PERKINS OF PORTLAND 
 
 Mr. Butler's " Perkins," the advertising man, who always studies 
 his problems first hand " Murdock's Soap is pure soap. If you 
 don't believe it, bite it" is the classic figure of advertising humor. 
 Illustrated, $1.00 postpaid 
 
 By FLORENCE TINSLEY COX 
 
 THE CHRONICLES OF RHODA 
 
 The inimitable autobiography of a little girl, filled with the 
 mingled pathos and humor of childhood, but for grown-up readers, 
 not for children. 
 
 Illustrated in color by JESSIE WILLCOX SMITH. 
 $1.25 postpaid 
 
 By VENITA SEIBERT 
 
 THE GOSSAMER THREAD 
 
 Like " Rhoda," Miss Seibert's heroine, " Velleda," is a little girl 
 a German-American but her book is for grown people who 
 want to look back to their own childish affairs and notions. 
 Illustrated by W. T. BENDA 
 $1.00 net; by mail, $1.10 
 
 S M 
 
 A 
 
 L L, 
 P u 
 
 M 
 b 
 
 A Y 
 
 1 i s 
 
 N 
 h 
 
 A R D 
 
 e r s, 
 
 & 
 B 
 
 C 
 
 o s t 
 
 M P 
 o n 
 
 A N 
 
 Y
 
 STANDARD AMERICAN HUMOR 
 
 By ROBERT ALEXANDER WASON 
 
 HAPPY HAWKINS 
 
 Happy is a cowboy of the plains, but he is more than that, he is 
 one of the most lovably humorous philosophers in American litera- 
 ture " American humor in its best estate," says the Nation. 
 
 Illustrated by HOWARD GILES. $1.50 postpaid 
 By JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS 
 
 UNCLE REMUS AND THE LITTLE BOY 
 
 This is the latest and last Uncle Remus book, and like its 
 predecessors, is an unqualified delight. Young and old will rejoice 
 at " The Story of the Doodang," " Brer Rabbit and the Pimmerly 
 Plum," and the many others. 
 
 Hlustrated by J. M. CONDE. $1.25 postpaid 
 By GRACE DONWORTH 
 
 THE LETTERS OF JENNIE ALLEN 
 
 "Jennie Allen has come to stay, we think, beside some predeces- 
 sors of fame. There is no dull page in the letters. One will laugh 
 oneself into conniptions over their quaintness, and recover to absorb 
 a deep and sober truth beneath." St. Louis Times. 
 
 DOWN HOME WITH JENNIE ALLEN 
 
 " Rarely is a sequel as good as that of which it is a continuation ; 
 still more rarely is it better. But Miss Donworth has achieved the 
 rarest success. She has reached a finer strain of humor and a deep- 
 er vein of homely philosophy than in her earlier volume, admirable 
 as that was. Seldom indeed is there published so wholesome, so 
 tender, so brave, or so humorous a book as this." San Francisco 
 Argonaut. 
 
 fc Both books are illustrated by F. R. GRUGER 
 Each, $1.50 postpaid 
 
 THE EARLY AMERICAN HUMORISTS 
 
 Representative selections from the work of the best American 
 humorists, from the early beginnings to the last generation, such as 
 Benjamin Franklin, Artemus Ward, Bill Arp, Augustus B. Long- 
 street, John Phoenix, Orpheus C. Kerr, Mrs. Partington, Petroleum 
 V. Nasby, Josh Billings, and many others. 
 
 24mo, two volumes, sold separately, flexible cloth, each 75 cents 
 
 net; by mail, 80 cents; flexible leather, $1.00 net; 
 
 by mail, $1.05 
 
 SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY 
 Publishers, Boston
 
 " Mr. Walter Prichard's Eaton's essays and criticisms 
 on the contemporary American stage," says Life, " have 
 attracted attention because oi their scholarly atmosphere 
 and their sound judgment. He is an interesting writer." 
 
 THE AMERICAN STAGE OF TO-DAY 
 
 By WALTER PRICHABD EATON 
 Formerly Dramatic Critic of the "New York Sun" 
 
 A vital treatment of the drama in America as it is developing at 
 the present day. Until the publication of this volume, in 1908, 
 almost ten years had passed since the appearance of any similar 
 work, and during that time important changes had marked the 
 evolution of the stage in this country. 
 
 Mr. Eaton's style is always piquant and illuminating; his contri- 
 bution to the literature of the theatre fascinating and informing. 
 " The American Stage of To-day " is a full book, stimulating the 
 reader to a new understanding of the meaning and the value of our 
 time in the progress of the American stage. Some of the twenty- 
 nine chapters are : " Our Infant Industry," " The Witching Hour," 
 " Paid in Full," " The Servant in the House," " Our Leading 
 Actor," " Kisses and David Belasco," " Observations in the Drama," 
 " The Confessions of a Critic." 
 
 " It would be well for our stage if every theatregoer should study 
 Mr. Eaton's book." Life. " Bright and graphic." New York 
 Times. " Will further the interests of good plays and a better 
 stage." Professor Richard Burton in the Bellman. " Walter 
 Prichard Eaton has made himself the most talked of and most gen- 
 erally approved writer on stage subjects in the metropolis." Chicago 
 Tribune. " He is no formal critic ; he does not write to instruct 
 his readers in the fundamental principles of the stage ; he seeks to 
 give them a pictorial view and a graphic understanding of its fleet- 
 ing panorama. He entertains us even while he enlightens us." 
 Boston Transcript. "Informing to the student who feels an intel- 
 ligent interest in the contemporary drama." Dial. " The volume 
 is an admirable illustration of what dramatic criticism might be, 
 discriminating and with keen sense." The World To-day. " It 
 gives the reader unmixed delight." Smart Set. " Mr. Eaton writes 
 well, with fulness of knowledge and with philosophic judgment." 
 The Theatre. " We cordially recommend this book." The 
 Mask. 
 
 $1.50 net; by mail, $1.62 
 
 MALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY 
 Publishers, Boston
 
 " Mr. Eaton is scholarly, sane and sympathetic as well 
 as critical. He is also witty, and the combination oi these 
 qualities makes him eminently readable." George Seibel 
 in the Pittsburgh Gaxette-Times. 
 
 AT THE NEW THEATRE AND OTHERS 
 
 The American Stage 
 Its Problems and Performances 
 
 1908-1910 
 By WALTER PBICHARD EATON 
 
 Author of "The American Stage of Today" 
 
 After an introductory chapter on the Theatrical Syndicate, Mr. 
 Eaton divides his book into three parts, the first dealing with the 
 first year at the New Theatre, the second with plays produced 
 elsewhere, the third with varied dramatic topics. 
 
 The chapter heads are : Part I : " A Year at the New Theatre 
 Summary," " Strife, a Dramatic Debate," ' Mr. Sheldon Wrestles 
 and Is Thrown," " ' Don ' and ' Liz, the Mother,' " " Salem via 
 Scandinavia," "Bridegrooms and the French Revolution," "'Sister 
 Beatrice ' and ' Brand,' " " ' The Winter's Tale ' without Scenery," 
 " Beethoven a Dramatic Biography " ; Part II : " The Easiest 
 Way," " Miss Nethersole as Muckraker," " John Drew Goes to Bed," 
 " Mr. Thomas's New Birth," " ' Israel ' and the Happy Ending," 
 ' 'Herod ' at Last," " A Tempest in a Teapot," " Mr. Klein Tackles 
 the Courts," " Booth Tarkington, Sophomore," " Miss Barrymore in 
 ' Mid-Channel/ " " Miss Crothers Champions Her Sex," " Pillars of 
 Society' and Mrs. Fiske," " 'Little Eyolf ' and Nazimova," " Her 
 Husband's Wife,' " " The Bad Morals of Good Plays," " Bare Feet 
 and Beethoven " ; Part III : " Some Popular Errors in the Judg- 
 ment of Acting," " Great Acting and the Modern Drama," " A Plea 
 for Operetta," " The Dramatist as a Man of Letters : the case of 
 Clyde Fitch," "William Winter An Appreciation," "Organizing 
 Audiences the Drama League of America," "The Cheap Theatre 
 and the Young," " The Unconceited Dramatists' Club." 
 
 " It is a clever and entertaining book, full of sharp observation 
 and lively humor and a wholesome spirit of independence. Mr. 
 Eaton knows the contemporaneous theatre well, has ideas of his 
 own and expresses them with indisputable ability. About the work 
 of the New Theatre he writes with point and discernment and his 
 papers on Clyde Fitch and Augustus Thomas are both excellent." 
 Nation. 
 
 " The essay, ' The Cheap Theatre and the Young,' is one of the 
 rare treatises on this subject, which, because of their moderation, 
 defy contradiction in any particular. Its careful, unbiassed perusal 
 is recommended to legislators and municipal authorities in the earn- 
 est hope that they may take heed lest the implied predictions in Mr. 
 Eaton's observations of the damage bound to be done, and to the 
 future come true." Brooklyn Citizen. 
 
 $1.50 net; by mail, $1.62 
 
 SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY 
 Publishers, Boston
 
 BOOKS BY CHARLOTTE PERKINS GILMAN 
 
 WOMEN AND ECONOMICS 
 
 A Study of the Economic Relation between Men and Women 
 as a Factor in Social Evolution 
 
 12mo, cloth, paper label, $1.50 postpaid 
 
 The fact that this book has gone through many editions in America 
 and Great Britain, and that it has also been translated into 
 Dutch, German, Italian, French, and Russian, proves that it ex- 
 presses in a striking way its analysis and explanation of woman's 
 position in modern society and its remedial plans for the future. 
 Speaking, in What Eight Million Women Want, of the differ- 
 ences between the accepted opinions and ideals of men and women, 
 Mrs. Rheta Childe Dorr says, " Back of the differences lie centuries 
 of different habits, different duties, different ambitions, different 
 opportunities, different rewards. I shall not here attempt to outline 
 what the differences have been or why they have existed. Char- 
 lotte Perkins Gilman, in Women and Economics, did this before me 
 did it so well that it need never be done again." 
 
 CONCERNING CHILDREN 
 
 12mo, cloth, decorative, $1.25 postpaid 
 
 Original and helpful essays looking toward the better understand- 
 ing of children and their more sensible and healthy development. 
 Notable for the soundness of its philosophy, its charm of style, and 
 the piquancy of its wit. 
 
 " Every parent ought to read this book." The Outlook. 
 
 IN THIS OUR WORLD 
 
 16mo, cloth, decorative, gilt top, $1.25 postpaid 
 
 Mr. Howells, in Harper's Weekly, has called this verse the best 
 civic satire which America has produced since " The Biglow 
 Papers." 
 
 THE YELLOW WALL PAPER 
 
 12mo, paper boards, decorative, 50 cents postpaid 
 
 " A conceit fantastical enough to have emanated from the brain 
 of Edgar Poe. It is written with remarkable vividness, as if the 
 writer had experienced something very like [that] which she de- 
 scribes. The story has a purely literary justification, but is none 
 the worse for teaching a lesson which some husbands and parents 
 would do well to heed." The Christian Register. 
 
 SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY, 
 Publishers, Boston
 
 " To the American representatives of the eight million the eight hundred 
 thousand members of the General Federation of Women's Clubs this volume is 
 dedicated." 
 
 WHAT EIGHT MILLION WOMEN WANT 
 
 By RHETA CHILDE DORR 
 Profusely illustrated from photographs. $2.00 net; by mall, $3.30. 
 
 "Woman's place is Home. But home is not contained within the 
 four walls of an individual home. Home is the community. The 
 city full of people is the Family." This is the theme of "What Eight 
 Million Women Want," an interpretation of the collective opinion 
 of women, which, through the activities of the women the eight 
 million members of the affiliated societies of the International Coun- 
 cil of Women who have consciously organized themselves into 
 clubs and associations for the purpose of self-improvement and civic 
 betterment in every way, is receiving expression for the first time 
 since the world began. Emphatically the book is not a discussion of 
 the suffrage question; far broader than that, it is a detailed state- 
 ment of the things that effective women are doing and thinking in 
 the world today. 
 
 The author's reasons for considering their collective aims and 
 efforts are, first, broadly, that it is a matter of self-interest for men 
 to examine the present ideals of women ; and second, the invasion 
 of industry by woman is the most important economic fact of our 
 day; the increase of divorce is the most important social fact since 
 slavery; and the suffrage movement is the most important political 
 fact of the present time. The book is essentially constructive. The 
 following is the list of chapters : 
 
 I. Introductory; II. From Culture Clubs to Social Service; III. 
 European Women and the Salic Law ; IV. American Women and 
 the Common Law ; V. Women's Demands on the Rulers of Indus- 
 try; VI. Making Over the Factory from the Inside; VII. Breaking 
 the Great Taboo; VIII. Woman's Helping Hand for the Prodigal 
 Daughter ; IX. The Servant in Her House ; X. Votes for Women ; 
 XI. Conclusion. 
 
 " An exhaustive study of woman in the house, in the store or factory, in the club, 
 in the crusade and in the economic scheme of affairs." New York World. 
 
 " A very effective presentation." The Churchman. 
 
 " A notable contribution to the sociological studies of the times. It is broad in 
 its research, noble in purpose, and admirable in spirit. The author has equipped 
 herself with facts and has stated facts and opinions in a fascinating, illuminating 
 and convincing way." Journal of Education. 
 
 " A volume of more than ordinary value because it assembles in book form a mass 
 of material particularly valuable to club women and to all interested in their 
 achievements." St. Paul Dispatch. 
 
 SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY 
 PUBLISHERS BOSTON
 
 Q ,'f o 
 X a O/l 4>
 
 A /"\ *''' il'H III