a's attitude in
the whole matter, and he forthwith proceeded innocently to give her
precisely the information she was seeking.

"Sara isn't like that, mother," he said rather shortly. "It's just
the--the crystal purity of her outlook which makes her what she is--so
absolutely straight and fearless. She sees love, and holds by what she
believes its demands to be. I wouldn't wish her any different," he added
loyally.

"Perhaps not. But if--supposing the man proves to have a wife already?
He might be separated from her; Sara doesn't seem to know much about
him. Or he may have a wife in a lunatic asylum who is likely to live for
the next forty years. What then? Will Sara never marry if--if there were
a circumstance like that--a really insurmountable obstacle?"

"No, I don't believe she will. I don't think she would wish to. If
he loves her and she him, spiritually they would be bound to one
another--lovers. And just the circumstance of his being tied to another
woman would make no difference to Sara's point of view. She goes beyond
material things--or the mere physical side of love."

"Then there is no chance for you unless Sara learns to _unlove_ this
man?"

Tim regarded her with faint amusement.

"Mother, do you think you could learn to unlove me--or my father?"

She laughed a little.

"You have me there, Tim," she acknowledged. "But"--hesitating a
little--"Sara knows so little of the man, apparently, that she may have
formed a mistaken estimate of his character. Perhaps he is not really
the--the ideal individual she has pictured him."

Tim smiled.

"You are a very transparent person, mother mine," he said indulgently.
"But I'm afraid your hopes of finding that the idol has feet of clay are
predestined to disappointment."

"Have you met the man?" asked Elisabeth sharply.

"I do not even know his name. But I should imagine him a man of big,
fine qualities."

"Since you don't know him, you can hardly pronounce an opinion."

A whimsical smile, touched with sadness, flitted across Tim's face.

"I know Sara," was all he said.

"Sara is given to idealizing the people she cares for," rejoined
Elisabeth.

She spoke quietly, but her expression was curiously intent. It was
as though she were gathering together her forces, concentrating them
towards some definite purpose, veiled in the inscrutable depths of those
strange eyes of hers.

"I find it difficult to forgive her," she said at last.

"That's not lik