the rest of the party were gathered.

"I hope, Mr. Emlyn," said Elsie's cheery voice, "that you have dissuaded
Mr. Chillingly from turning Papist. I am sure you have taken time enough
to do so."

Mr. Emlyn, Protestant every inch of him, slightly recoiled from Kenelm's
side. "Do you meditate turning--" He could not conclude the sentence.

"Be not alarmed, my dear sir. I did but own to Mrs. Braefield that I
had paid a visit to Oxford in order to confer with a learned man on
a question that puzzled me, and as abstract as that feminine pastime,
theology, is now-a-days. I cannot convince Mrs. Braefield that Oxford
admits other puzzles in life than those which amuse the ladies." Here
Kenelm dropped into a chair by the side of Lily.

Lily half turned her back to him.

"Have I offended again?"

Lily shrugged her shoulders slightly and would not answer.

"I suspect, Miss Mordaunt, that among your good qualities, nature has
omitted one; the bettermost self within you should replace it."

Lily here abruptly turned to him her front face: the light of the skies
was becoming dim, but the evening star shone upon it.

"How! what do you mean?"

"Am I to answer politely or truthfully?"

"Truthfully! Oh, truthfully! What is life without truth?"

"Even though one believes in fairies?"

"Fairies are truthful, in a certain way. But you are not truthful. You
were not thinking of fairies when you--"

"When I what?"

"Found fault with me."

"I am not sure of that. But I will translate to you my thoughts, so far
as I can read them myself, and to do so I will resort to the fairies.
Let us suppose that a fairy has placed her changeling into the cradle of
a mortal: that into the cradle she drops all manner of fairy gifts which
are not bestowed on mere mortals; but that one mortal attribute she
forgets. The changeling grows up; she charms those around her: they
humour, and pet, and spoil her. But there arises a moment in which the
omission of the one mortal gift is felt by her admirers and friends.
Guess what that is."

Lily pondered. "I see what you mean; the reverse of truthfulness,
politeness."

"No, not exactly that, though politeness slides into it unawares: it is
a very humble quality, a very unpoetic quality; a quality that many dull
people possess; and yet without it no fairy can fascinate mortals, when
on the face of the fairy settles the first wrinkle. Can you not guess it
now?"

"No: you vex me; you provoke me;"