“It was the rarest possible exhibition of wisdom and calm indifference to publicity I ever saw,” added Stanton. “Mr. Carter, especially, seemed to be disturbed greatly on account of Jesus’s indifference to his paper and all attempts to interview him. Did you hear a rumor to the effect that Mr. Carter was going to New York to follow up his career and expose him if possible?”

“I have heard something of the sort, but paid no attention to it. Carter is a violent, egotistic man centering all his ambition about his paper and its influence. I know he was deeply disappointed because neither he nor any of his reporters could get a picture of Jesus for his paper.”

“Nor any of the other press representatives. Mr. Maxwell, do you put that down as a miracle?”

“I don’t attempt to explain it. But my faith in him after the first few doubtful hours seemed to me to rest on who he was. His power, his sinlessness, and his superiority to all men impressed me irresistibly. I could not escape that for a moment.”

Stanton was silent, and both ministers seemed to be going over the great events through which they had passed. Then Stanton said gently, “Mr. Maxwell, I have a statement which I wish to make to you. Not a confession exactly, and yet it is in one way, but the fact is, I am planning to get married, to have that home you said a few days ago I ought to have.”

Maxwell looked at his assistant keenly. “You’re going to leave us? I don’t know how I can spare you.”

“I’m not planning to go yet, Mr. Maxwell. But I am planning to take from you one of your best—the best, I think—of your parishioners. All I can say is I can’t help myself and, to tell the truth, don’t want to.”

Mr. Maxwell’s face suddenly brightened. He took a step nearer his assistant and put a hand on his shoulder. “Richard,” he said in the affectionate manner that had knit him so closely to his own young people all the years, “I congratulate Miss Page and you. I don’t know which one needs the other most. Let me call Mrs. Maxwell. She will be delighted. In fact, we have once or twice actually wished this might happen.”

He called to Mrs. Maxwell, and when she entered the study he was about to break the news to her, but she smilingly anticipated her husband. “Oh, I know all about it, Mr. Stanton! I couldn’t be more delighted if Virginia were my own daughter. You have our heartiest blessing.”

Stanton’s eyes glowed as he took Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell’s hands. “I shall prize your friendship for her sake and my own.” And then he added, as Virginia had, “It was an unspeakable joy to have Jesus speak to us as he did before he went away. That will follow us all our lives.”

And then that silence fell between them, the silence that the world was to know more and more after its centuries of bustle and hurry and din, the silence that Jesus always brings—the peace that passes understanding and is the source of more permanent power for righteousness than all noisy meetings and fussy “plans” for helping God do his work among his creatures.