"How much good have we done yet ?" She paused, but the pause was rhetorical, and he knew it; he could see the light behind her eyes that was more than visionary; it was the light of practical Scots enthusiasm, unquenched and undiscouraged after a battle with fear itself.

She began to be beautiful again as the spirit of unconquerable courage won its way.
"Have we won one convert?
Is there one, of those you have taught who is with us still ?" The answer was self-evident.

There was none.

But there was no sting for him in what she asked.

Rather her words came as a relief, for he could feel the strength behind them.