“But excuse my rambling. Haven’t talked so much since I was born.” Hurd shut up at once and continued his regular occupation of rigid silence, but his unusual excitement communicated itself to Barnes as he went out on his way to the reporters’ room.

“Jesus is here! Here, in this world,” he said to himself. “I have seen him. Shaken hands with him. He forgave my sins personally. It is the one great event of my life! And he is going on with his mighty work. He has appeared to strengthen the faith of His disciples, to rebuke the hypocrites and the selfish, to comfort the broken-hearted and make men, even like Hurd and myself, feel the touch of the divine in our common lives. Thank God. My Lord and my Savior!”

Barnes worked all that day with a tear in his eye and a heartthrob of delight, and ever as he worked the vision of Jesus in New York, at the center of the republic’s money fever, haunted him. He wondered every minute what Jesus would do there, how the people would receive him, what would be the outcome of it all.

And then, suddenly, to the astonishment and disappointment and wonderment of all disciples all over the country, he who had so thrilled every heart and roused to wondrous exaltation all minds that longed for him, disappeared, leaving no trace. It was as if a drop of water had melted into the wide ocean.

All New York was startled as much by his disappearance as by his coming. He had performed no miracles, had made no powerful impression except that one before the ministers. No one could be found who knew where he was or what his purpose could be. No one could say whether he would appear again.

Hearts were heavy and hopes were quenched—hopes that had been kindled high by his first appearance. How could he disappoint the people? Where could he have gone? What was his future plan? Surely he would not vex the world by so imperfect and unfinished a task. He had as yet done nothing except to show himself to a few of his disciples. It was only a glimpse of heaven’s glory. The world was so hungry for a greater knowledge of his power, and it needed him, it needed him so much.

At the end of a month, there was still no sign of his presence anywhere.

Carter remarked to Barnes one evening, as he was leaving the office, “How about this Jesus now? Do you still believe in him?”

“I do,” said Barnes bravely, but his heart was heavy. He had been anticipating wonderful events and he could not conceal his feelings. “I shall always believe in him. I owe my new life to him.”

Carter eyed him closely. “Your new life? But my point was well taken, eh? It was a fake.”

“It was not. He will appear again.”