Mr. Maxwell closed the door, and kneeling in his own room, he breathed a prayer, foreseeing in a waking vision some of the tremendous scenes through which his Master would soon pass. And as he fell asleep, there ran again through his heart as he thought of the figure asleep in his own house, “Jesus is here! Jesus is here!”

Chapter Seven

It was a week after the great conference in the First Church at Raymond. Virginia had just come over to see Rachel, and as Rachel came into the sitting room with her boy Frank, she exclaimed, “What have you been doing to grow so young and handsome? Stand right there, Virginia. What’s the secret?”

Virginia stood still, facing her friend. Before her conversion to Christian discipleship, she had used her wealth and social influence simply for pleasure. Now, for the years she had dedicated herself to the service of her Master, none of her beauty had been lessened. But it had about it a more subtle loveliness and grace. And today she was so radiant, so abundant in the splendor of her Christian womanhood, that her friend could not refrain from comment.

Virginia stood there in silence. There was a smile on her lips so gracious, so full of winsome life, that it was irresistible.

The little boy, Frank, ran up to her. “Kiss me, Auntie Virginia,” he said.

“Me too!” cried Rachel. She ran into Virginia’s arms and the two friends laughed as the boy reached up his arms between them.

“I have come to tell you, dear. You shall be the first to know.” And in few words, she told her heart’s secret.

“What! You? Virginia! I am so glad! And how I shall enjoy having you for my minister’s wife.”

“Rachel, how do you know? Besides, I shall not be your minister’s wife. Only—”

“Only the assistant minister’s wife. But do you think I have been blind, or that a happy, married woman like myself cannot see what has been going on where her dearest friend was concerned? Why, the very first night Mr. Stanton saw you, he was attracted to you.”

“That is what he tells me,” Virginia exclaimed. “And it helps us both a little to excuse the absurdly brief time we have known each other. Just think! Less than two weeks.”

“But neither of you are children, you know,” said Rachel slyly. “Let’s see. How old are you, Virginia?”

“I am thirty-four,” said Virginia, smiling. “And Mr. Stanton is forty. So of course we, as you say, are not children.”

“Do you call him Mr. Stanton?”

“I meant to have said”—Virginia paused shyly, almost as if Rachel were a male acquaintance—“Richard.”

“That sounds better to me. How delightful!” And Rachel hugged her again. “God has been good to you, Virginia, in giving you the love of a real man.”

“I know in my heart he has. For Richard saved my life in front of the church, and I believe, dear, I learned fully what he meant to me that day. And another thing I have not told you: the next day, the day Jesus went away, he talked with us and seemed to crown our love with the one great crown it needed.”