London--no longer the city of Isabel--must learn to say "Theophilus Londonderry" so naturally, that it would some day serve as an unforgettable remembrance of Jenny.

He must become a great man, because a great name is the one shrine in which love's memory may escape oblivion.

In the arms of his name Jenny would then be carried down the years, one woman-star saved from the night of death.

Again, the world, for which in one way he had so little care, was to help him indirectly to keep his troth to Jenny.
In a sense, the mountain was already coming to this young prophet; for with the winter some of London's finest spirits were now and again to be met in that incongruous Zion Place, as visiting lecturers to New Zion.
And each one, as he came, was impressed as Isabel had been on that old evening when she had discovered her colony of surprise-people.

Each realised in that gravely masterful young minister a power and a force of attraction which could not long remain hidden in that little country town.