As he sat in an aching stupor the sexton announced a gentleman who
insisted on seeing him on important business.
"I told him you would see no one at this hour, but he says he must
see you."
"Show him in," Gordon said, with a frown.
The man entered, gazed at the preacher with curious interest, and
stood with his silk hat in hand, smiling.
"This is Doctor Gordon?"
"Leave off the doctor and you have it right."
"I am the bearer of good news. A client of mine has instructed me
to call and say that the sum of one million dollars will be placed
to your credit in the Garfield National Bank within two years, and
that you will be its sole trustee for the building of your projected
Temple. One-third of it will be available within three months. I
am sorry, I am forbidden to disclose the name."
Gordon sprang to his feet, pale as death, overwhelmed with awe. To
have the answer of his prayers, the agonising of his soul for years,
answered in the hour of utter defeat thrilled him with a sense
of solemnity he had never felt. The man was not a man. He was the
messenger swift and beautiful from the courts of heaven, for whose
coming his eyes had long strained and his ears listened.
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