The One Woman

" A man sprang to his fe

ed by a supreme effort of will and sat erect, h

uite well now," sh

o his place and stood watching her out of the

eet with its big bare gable. The ushers were so used to people fainting that they kept water and smelling-salts handy in the anterooms. The Reverend Frank Gordon no

r the gallery, but had gone steadily on in an eve

s. The rumour of a brewing church trouble had been published, but he had not

om the stupor with which he had been strugglin

a tall athlete, six feet four, of Viking mould, hair blond and wavi

w York when, on its last legs, it was about to sell out and move uptown. He had created a sen

e, but he loved to use the deep vibrant subtones of his voice so charged with feeling that he melted the people into tears. His face, flashing and trembling, smiling and clouding with hidden fires of passion, held every eye riveted. His gestures were few and seemed

and brilliancy, the warmth and enthusiasm of a born leader of men. The impulsive champion of

s pockets and handled with the tenderness of a lover, were his hobbies. He had in a marked degree the p

ose of the sermon he dismissed the crowd with the announcement

tremor of machinery, the rumble of cab, the clatter of hoof-beat, the cry of child and hackman, the haunting murmur of millions like the moan of the sea borne on breezes winged with the odours

at waiting for the crowd to go, and

ery Sunday evening, no matter how tired he was or how hopeless the effort might seem. When the d

to throw off his weariness. He had laid aside his pulpit robe, a tri

any who can witness to the miracle of the Spirit in our daily life. We are crushed sometimes with the brutal weig

n, who rose trembli

intellectual power. His eyes, soft and tender as a wo

at it a moment, and, as the tears began to s

I was dead-dead to shame, dead to honour, dead to love, dead to the memory of life. I was so low I found scant welcome in hell's own port, the salo

l wondering how I could beat the barkeeper out of a drink, when a sw

nce had been-a boy with a face like that, with a Christian father and mother who loved me as their own life,

hese after-meetings, led my soul to the foot of the cross of Jesus Christ. I looked up into His beautiful face-the fairest among

hese hands, which had not earned an honest cent for years, have handled thousands of dollars of other people's money and not one penn

down,

w our heads a moment in silent prayer while

he passed the man who had

you knew I needed that

rds smiled

to you in the study, sir

is wife to tell her to

irs. As he entered, a young woman of extraordinary beauty, elegantly and quiet

w much good you have done me; and I specially wish to tell you how sorry I am that my stupid weakness to-night interrupted you. I think I cam

rest. "You have the gift of the sympathetic listener. I noticed no disturbance,

d at him

able society in New York can offer and I am weary of its vacuity. I've been disillusioned of a girl's silly dreams, but there are some beautiful ones in my heart I've held. I can't tell you how your church a

a message is to me to-night," he though

my feet. It was so simple, so heartfelt, so sincere, and yet so close in its touch of life, I felt that yo

and Gordon felt that he had never

would call to see her w

card she gave him, his mind aglow with the consciousness of her remar

ue eyes, cordial and smiling, at once mysterious, magic, friendly, gravely candid. Her skin was smooth as a babe's, with the delicate creamy satin of the blonde flashing the scarlet tints of every emotion.

the body at once strong, luxurious, insolently languid, rhythmic and full of dumb music. It was when she move

tures the senses, drugs the brain and conscience of the man who responds to her call-the w

d the door for

she asked at length, her long

woman,

w glide softly i

he sank into a ch

m, a stranger I

strange women, and yo

New York, with its dead and deser

ed to call,

urch needs every friend and every do

d silly women sigh into his handsome face. Ah, Frank, before we came to New York you had eyes only for me. The city, the crowd and the flattery of fools have turned your head. You are letting go of all

and looked down on the city lying below. Their little

stooped with exhaustion. He raised one hand and brushed back a str

ith that blond hair. And it is so effective in the pulpit. If you were not six feet four it might be e

on s

ess your enemy. That mob which hails you a god will turn and curse you. You will never build your marble dream out of such stuff. Both your sermons to-day will make yo

ed and his

s, friends," she went on. "Now that I am t

ithful attorney, and that you threw him over for an athletic parson with blond hair and a smile, yet I have never chided you about this little secret. Mr. Ki

ered and her

m faithful to you. But such words and scenes as these may d

Mark Overman, of whose cruel tongue you're so fond. I wonder you

htfully shaded his brow with his hand, hi

k of pain in his fac

nk, is not your intentio

you never could res

I could, I never w

of a smile played about

speeches you said to

harming manners

alingly and she stare

n heart and soul. I think the past week has been the most trying of my whole life. It opened wit

ck on me. Instead of work yesterday, a procession of people, hungry and suffering, were at the door from morning un

racy instead of the old brick barn we call a church-a temple that would flash its glory from the sky above the sordid materialism that is crushing the lives and hearts of men, telling in marble song of God, of immortality, of fa

ers out of their pews. We've had too much of it alrea

hip in the temple. I wanted to knock him down. Instea

Well, I had nothing to give them except my own heart's blood, and so to-day I tore my heart open for them to devour it. True, I didn't preach the Bible except as its truth had passed into my own so

ever before, I heard the rush of its half-crazed millions, its crash and roar, saw its fierce brutality, its lust, its cruelty, its senseless scramble for pleasure, its indifference to truth, its millions of to-day but a symbol of the millions gone before and the trampling millions to come, and I felt I was a failure. I felt that I was

voice. His wife's face had softened and a

t a reception you have given me! And for what? A beautiful woman stopped to tell me my message had not been in vain, that it had made for her a light on life's w

im with the glitter of jealousy

he door. Taking down his hat and light overcoa

he night under d

y fiom within scarcely louder than a whisper, ten

ar, please

crying with terror she had never known before "Fra