ows a little English. She spends some time in her own
house, but is often away visiting other Temples. Just now she is away,
and little K. is with her. . . . Humanly speaking, she will never let her
go."

The education of the mission school is appreciated because it makes the
bright little child still brighter; and we, who know the home life of
these children, are glad when they are given one brief opportunity to
learn what may help them in the difficult days to come. We have known of
some little ones who, influenced by outside teaching, tried to escape
the life they began to feel was wrong, but in each case they were
overborne, for on the side of the oppressors there was power. I was in a
Temple house lately, and noticed the doors--the massive iron-bossed
doors are a feature of all well-built Hindu houses of the South. How
could a little child shut up in such a room, with its door shut, if need
be, to the outside inquisitive world--how could she resist the strength
that would force the garland round her neck? She might tear it off if
she dared, but the little golden symbol had been hidden under the
flowers, and the priest had blessed it; the deed was done--she was
married to the god. And only those who have seen the effect of a few
weeks of such a life upon a child, who has struggled in vain against it,
can understand how cowed she may become, how completely every particle
of courage and independence of spirit may be caused to disappear; and
how what we had known as a bright, sparkling child, full of the
fearless, confiding ways of a child, may become distrustful and
constrained, quite incapable of taking a stand on her own account, or of
responding to any effort we might be able to make from outside. It is as
if the child's spirit were broken, and those who know what she has gone
through cannot wonder if it is.

And then comes something we dread more: the life begins to attract. The
sense of revolt passes as the will weakens; the persistent, steady
pressure tells. And when we see her next, perhaps only three months
later, the child has passed the boundary, and belongs to us no more.

CHAPTER XXXI

And there was None to Save

Thou canst conceive our highest and our lowest
Pulses of nobleness and aches of shame.

FREDERIC W. H. MYERS.

IN speaking of these matters I have tried to keep far from that which is
only sentiment, and have resolutely banis