ause I have given myself, body and soul, to God,
and I want to live only for Him. You asked me for a text--here is the
one that has helped me: "He died for all, that they which live should
not henceforth live unto themselves, but unto Him which died for them
and rose again."'

There was silence, then Constance said with a light laugh: 'To be
consistent, Hilda, you ought to go into a Sisterhood; are you thinking
of doing it?'

'No; why should I? I only tell you this to show you how inconsistent I
should be if I threw myself into the midst of a gay life and thought of
nothing but enjoying myself.'

'Like the rest of us? Give me one of your sort for parading their own
virtues at the expense of their neighbours!' said Kenneth, with a yawn.

'Oh, please don't say that! You made me give my reasons.'

'And so you have drawn out this hard-and-fast line of life for
yourself, and think you will be happy in stifling all your natural
instincts?' asked Captain Gates.

'I am happy--I don't want these things I have something much better!'
Then, warming with my subject, I added impulsively, 'I don't believe
any of you know what it is to realize that religion is not an outward
form, something we hear and read about, but is a reality in one's soul.
It is living instead of merely existing, it is being in touch with
everything beautiful and ennobling, and with a living personal Friend,
whose love is such an utterly different thing from anything else on
earth!'

'I think we have had enough,' Kenneth interrupted in a drawling tone.
'Spare us any more rhapsodies. Can't we have a little music? You
might give us a song, Stroud.'

Mr. Stroud complied with this request at once; he seemed never so happy
as when Constance was playing his accompaniments, and for the next
twenty minutes she and he were singing together. Then Captain Gates
asked me a little hesitatingly if I would play on my violin. I had not
often used it since I had been with the Forsyths, but I had always been
very fond of it, and had played for hours to my old cousin in London.

'I think a violin is rather worldly,' objected Kenneth in his mocking
tone; 'I am sure it is not a fit conclusion to the sermon we have just
been hearing.'

'I don't think it is at all worldly,' I said determinedly, as I moved
across to one of the long French windows and took my violin from the
case; then leaning against the side of the window I looked out into the
soft summer night, a