should see a new
heaven and a new earth; but--but--" she sought her word.

"There may be truth in what you say" (his words showed how far he had
been able to follow her), "but your views would lead to very
revolutionary practices."

"Revolution! Ah, that takes place when men take some new idea of their
own, like the bit, between their teeth, and run. But I said to live in
His ideas--His, without Whom nothing was made that was made; Who caused
creation to revolve slowly out of chaos" (she looked around at the
manifold life of tree and flower and bird as she spoke); "Who will not
break the reed of our customs as long as there is any true substance
left in it to make music with."

"It sounds very beautiful, my dear, but is it practicable?"

"As practicable as is any holy life!" she cried. "We believe; if we do
not live by a miracle we have no sort or manner of right to preach to
those who do not believe."

Captain Rexford would have died for his belief in miracles, but he only
believed in them at the distance of some eighteen hundred years or more.

"How would you apply this?" he asked, mildly indulgent.

"To the question of each hour as it comes. What, for instance, is the
right way to act to Alec Trenholme?"

When she came to his name for some reason she left her standing-place,
and they were now walking on side by side.

"Well, Sophia, you bring an instance, and you say, 'put it practically.'
I will do so. This village is badly in need of such a tradesman. Even
the hotel, and other houses that can afford it, grumble at having to
obtain their supplies by rail, and we are badly enough served, as you
know. I have no idea that this young man has any notion of settling
here, but, _suppose he did_" (Captain Rexford said his last words as if
they capped a climax), "you will see at a glance that in that case any
recognition of equality such as you seem to be proposing, would be
impossible. It would be mere confusion."

"And why should he not settle here? Are we, a Christian community,
unable to devise a way of treating him and his brother that would
neither hurt their feelings nor our welfare, that would be equally
consonant with our duty to God and our own dignity? Or must he go,
because our dignity is such a fragile thing that it would need to be
supported by actions that we could not offer to God?"

"You know, my dear, if you will excuse my saying so, I think you are
pushing this point a little too far. If it w