other; and
yet this form of torture was constantly occurring to him. He could not
bear to do what he knew was wrong, and he could not bear to vex
Elisabeth; yet Elisabeth's wishes and his own ideas of right were by no
means always synonymous. His only comfort was the knowledge that his
sovereign's anger was, as a rule, short-lived, and that he himself was
indispensable to that sovereign's happiness. This was true; but he did
not then realize that it was in his office as admiring and sympathizing
audience, and not in his person as Christopher Thornley, that he was
necessary to Elisabeth. A fuller revelation was vouchsafed to him
later.

The next morning Elisabeth was herself again, and was quite ready to
enjoy Christopher's society and to excuse his scruples. She knew that
self of hers when she said that she wished she had somebody else to play
with, in order that she might withdraw the light of her presence from
her offending henchman. To thus punish Christopher, until she had found
some one to take his place, was a course of action which would not have
occurred to her. Elisabeth's pride could never stand in the way of her
pleasure; Christopher's, on the contrary, might. It was a remarkable
fact that after Christopher had reproved Elisabeth for some fault--which
happened neither infrequently nor unnecessarily--he was always repentant
and she forgiving; yet nine times out of ten he had been in the right
and she in the wrong. But Elisabeth's was one of those exceptionally
generous natures which can pardon the reproofs and condone the virtues
of their friends; and she bore no malice, even when Christopher had been
more obviously right than usual. But she was already enough of a woman
to adapt to her own requirements his penitence for right-doing; and on
this occasion she took advantage of his chastened demeanour to induce
him to assist her in erecting a new shrine to Athene in the wood--which
meant that she gave all the directions and he did all the work.

"You are doing it beautifully, Chris--you really are!" she exclaimed
with delight. "We shall be able to have a splendid sacrifice this
afternoon. I've got some feathers to offer up from the fowl cook is
plucking; and they make a much better sacrifice than waste paper."

"Why?"

Christopher was too shy in those days to put the fact into words;
nevertheless, the fact remained that Elisabeth interested him
profoundly. She was so original, so unexpected, that she was con