value of the Church to the community, and willing to fight for its integrity. To win his fight and thereby lose his sweetheart would be an empty and a bitter victory. To yield his honest convictions and play the hypocrite in order to retain her confidence and love would be cowardly and base. In no direction could he see light or hope. But with Ruth the case was different. Filled with religious zeal she was fighting for an ideal. That in itself was soul-satisfying. Even out of defeat would spring joy that she had fought. Her lover's approval, even his affection, was not a sine qua non to her. His image in her heart was often overshadowed by her absorption in the struggle for new life in the Church. The heroic figure of her rector, battling against odds, with splendid confidence in the justice of his cause, loomed ever larger in her mind as she went forth with him into the thick of the contest. Not that she was in any way disloyal to her lover. He was still her heart's high choice. But a greater thing than human love had entered her soul, a thing that called for sacrifice and sharp self-denial, even to the breaking, if necessary, of earth's dearest ties.
Westgate knew all this, so it was with no anticipation of a joyful meeting that he called upon her in response to her request.
There was no lack of cordiality in her greeting, but her face bore a look of determination that he had not often seen there. She did not waste time in explaining the purpose of her request.
"I asked you to come," she said, "because I have learned that it was you who prepared and offered the resolution in the vestry meeting calling for the dismissal of the rector."
"It was I," he replied.
"And I wanted to know whether you acted solely in the belief that it would be for the good of the church to have him go, or whether you were actuated by some other motive."
