misery and cannot read its
purpose, because you suffer and have not found rest, you have said there
is naught but chance, and become an atheist, as many have done before
you. Is it not true?"

"Go on," she answered, bowing her head to her breast so that the long
rippling hair almost hid her face.

"It seems a little odd," Geoffrey said with a short laugh, "that I,
with all my imperfections heaped upon me, should presume to preach to
you--but you will know best how near or how far I am from the truth. So
I want to say something. I have lived for thirty-five years, and seen a
good deal and tried to learn from it, and I know this. In the long run,
unless we of our own act put away the opportunity, the world gives us
our due, which generally is not much. So much for things temporal.
If you are fit to rule, in time you will rule; if you do not, then
be content and acknowledge your own incapacity. And as for things
spiritual, I am sure of this--though of course one does not like to talk
much of these matters--if you only seek for them long enough in some
shape you will find them, though the shape may not be that which is
generally recognised by any particular religion. But to build a wall
deliberately between oneself and the unseen, and then complain that the
way is barred, is simply childish."

"And what if one's wall is built, Mr. Bingham?"

"Most of us have done something in that line at different times," he
answered, "and found a way round it."

"And if it stretches from horizon to horizon, and is higher than the
clouds, what then?"

"Then you must find wings and fly over it."

"And where can any earthly woman find those spiritual wings?" she
asked, and then sank her head still deeper on her breast to cover her
confusion. For she remembered that she had heard of wanderers in the
dusky groves of human passion, yes, even Maenad wanderers, who had
suddenly come face to face with their own soul; and that the cruel paths
of earthly love may yet lead the feet which tread them to the ivory
gates of heaven.

And remembering these beautiful myths, though she had no experience of
love, and knew little of its ways, Beatrice grew suddenly silent. Nor
did Geoffrey give her an answer, though he need scarcely have feared to
do so.

For were they not discussing a purely abstract question?

CHAPTER X

LADY HONORIA MAKES ARRANGEMENTS

In another moment somebody entered the room; it was Elizabeth. She had
returned from