Some æons of agony passed—I think in reality it was three or four days as happy people count them—and Arthur came over to see me again.
We sat chiefly in silence, or else talked about impersonal matters, Arthur looking at me all the time with his dog-like eyes. But just as he was leaving he said—
"Have you thought any more about Lady Chayford's suggestion, old man?"
"I have thought about nothing else."
"Then don't you think you might do as—as—she suggests?" he asked timidly: then: "for Fay's sake," he added, almost in a whisper.
I turned round upon him quickly.
"If I consent to have Frank Wildacre here, I shall not do it for Fay's sake," I said, "but for Christ's sake."
And as I uttered the three words which are the greatest lever of power, both human and Divine, which the world has ever known—those words whereby Man is permitted to control the Actions of even God Himself—I knew that at last the door had been opened to Him Who stood outside and knocked. Once again the Galilean had conquered.