Norman actually stared at Maxwell, then said with a sigh of relief, “I confess, I had not thought of it in that way. I was only thinking of our own newspaper vulgarity and the hasty, superficial treatment of every serious thing. I don’t know how it will all come out, but of course I don’t doubt his superior wisdom and ability to face any situation of modern life. Can you make yourself believe that such a marvelous event has really occurred—that Jesus Christ, in the flesh, is actually living and breathing in Raymond tonight?”

“I believe it without question.” Alexander Powers spoke softly, almost as if talking to himself. Throughout the evening, he had sat silently, only occasionally uttering a word, deeply absorbed in Martha’s answers, observant of all shades of expression, and tense with suppressed feelings. To anyone who was familiar with this man’s history and the cross he had borne in loyalty to his Lord, it might have been revealed that night that Powers was in a state of exaltation, free from any trace of hesitation or doubt. He had accepted, with a heart that was hungry for a look at its Lord, the entire stupendous statement of Martha from the moment she had exclaimed, “Jesus is here!” From then on, his entire faith would rest calmly and joyfully on this person and call him Master and Lord.

Not so Mr. Maxwell. He confessed to Norman, Powers, Mrs. Maxwell, and Martha, as they remained in the library after the others had gone, that he could not yet bring his mind to accept such an astounding event as a real fact. In spite of his own intense desire for such an appearance, and in spite of all Martha and Mr. Grey had said, he found a region of doubt still existing in his own mind. He found himself murmuring almost mechanically, “Except I shall see in his hands the print of the nails, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.”

“I accept it completely!” Alexander Powers’s voice broke through Maxwell’s reverie. “I believe he is here. I don’t doubt my Lord and my God. What an unheard-of joy to see him at last!” Tears streamed down his face. His friends understood it.

When he and Norman went away, Maxwell said, “Powers, I want to believe as much as you do. And I have a feeling that I shall as soon as I meet him. I am going over to Grey’s first thing in the morning. Did I tell you, the last thing Grey said to me tonight was that he—the person—had told him he wanted to see me early tomorrow?”

Mr. Maxwell did not sleep that night, and he welcomed the early light. As soon as the simple morning meal was over, he went out. Mrs. Maxwell laid her hand on his arm as he left the house, simply saying, “It will be all right, Henry. Leave it with the Father.”