He frowned and fidgeted—till the thought within forced its way:
"Christ was hated. Yet directly the least touch of it comes to us, we rebel—we cry out against God."
"It is because we are so weak—we are not Christ!" She covered her face with her hands.
"No—but we are his followers—if the Life that was in him is in us too. 'Life that in me has rest—as I—Undying Life—have power in Thee!'" He fell—murmuring—into lines that had evidently been in his thoughts, smiling upon her.
Then Catharine returned. Alice was warmly wrapped up, and Catharine took her to the door, leaving Meynell in the sitting-room.
"We will come and help you this evening—Mary and I," she said tenderly, as they stood together in the little passage.
"Mary?" Alice looked at her in a trembling uncertainty.
"Mary—of course."
Alice thought a moment, and then said with a low intensity, a force to which Catharine had no clue—"I want you—to tell her—the whole story. Will you?"
Catharine kissed her cheek in silence, and they parted.