"I have something to say to you," Elisabeth replied, and her eyes shone
like stars in the twilight; "you won't understand it, but I must say it
all the same. In church to-night, for the first time in my life, I heard
God speaking to me; and I found out that religion is no string of
dogmas, but just His calling us by name."

Tremaine looked at her pityingly. "You are overtired and overwrought by
the heat, and the excitement of the sermon has been too much for you.
But you will be all right again to-morrow, never fear."

"I knew you wouldn't understand, and I can't explain it to you; but it
has suddenly all become quite clear to me--all the things that I have
puzzled over since I was a little child; and I know now that religion is
not our attitude toward God, but His attitude toward us."

"Why, Elisabeth, you are saying over again all the old formulas that you
and I have refuted so often."

"I know I am; but I never really believed in them till now. I can't
argue with you, Alan--I'm not clever enough--and besides, the best
things in the world can never be proved by argument. But I want you to
understand that the Power which you call Christianity is stronger than
human wills, or human strength, or even human love; and now that it has
once laid hold upon me, it will never let me go."

Alan's face grew pale with anger. "I see; your old associations have
been too strong for you."

"It isn't my old associations, or my early training, or anything
belonging to me. It isn't me at all. It is just His Voice calling me.
Can't you understand, Alan? It is not I who am doing it all--it is He."

There was a short silence, and then Tremaine said--

"But I thought you loved me?"

"I thought so too, but perhaps I was wrong; I don't know. All I know is
that this new feeling is stronger than any feeling I ever had before;
and that I can not give up my religion, whatever it may cost me."

"I will not marry a woman who believes in the old faith."

"And I will not marry a man who does not."

Alan's voice grew hard. "I don't believe you ever loved me," he
complained.

"I don't know. I thought I did; but perhaps I knew as little about love
as you know about religion. Perhaps I shall find a real love some day
which will be as different from my friendship for you as this new
knowledge is different from the religion that Cousin Maria taught me.
I'm very sorry, but I can never marry you now."

"You would have given up your religion fa