Yet, as he moved swiftly towards the house of Sir Thomas Ducaine, he knew in a strange, sub-conscious fashion, that all his life was altered, all his ideas of the future were overthrown.
Something had come into the life of the brilliant young man, something had fallen upon him like a sword—it would never be the same any more!
Meanwhile, as he walked with Joseph, he walked with a man who warmed his whole being with awe and reverence. Speculation ceased within him. He was content to be taken where the other would—dominated, captive, and glad.
And in his mental vision there still remained the vivid memory of the miracle which he had seen—the piercing cries of joy and thankfulness, the picture of the poor old man and his recovered son, drowned all other thought within him!
He felt, as Moses must have felt on Sinai, the rapture and fear of one who has been very near to God.
They came to the door of the house in Piccadilly.
A row of carriages lined the pavement, and the butler was standing in the hall, surrounded by his satellites. The door was half ajar, held by a footman, and as the two men entered there was a sudden stir and movement of the people who were expectant there.
Sir Thomas Ducaine, who had been talking earnestly and in a low voice to Mary Lys, came forward quickly as the two men entered.
His face was charged with a great reverence and affection as he took Joseph by both hands.
"Master," he said, "welcome! We are all waiting for you."