hat I say. I hate my mother; I hate the aunt who
brought me up; I hate crowds of people. I don't hate one man because I
want him to fall in love with me, but if he doesn't do that soon, I
shall hate him too. I feel friendly towards you now, but I don't know
how soon I may hate you. At least," she paused, and a gentle look came
into her face, "I had all these hatreds up to a few weeks ago; now they
are comparatively dormant."

Again the flood of her words seemed to check him, but he tried:

"I believe it then; I will take all you say as true. I think you are
fairly convincing. Well, then, how do you suppose you can be united to
Infinite Love, Infinite Mercy, Infinite Purity? God is not merely good,
He is Goodness. Until you feel that His Presence would burn and destroy
and annihilate your unworthiness, you have no sense of the joys of His
Friendship. You stand now looking up to Him and choosing Him as your
Friend, whereas you must lie prostrate in the dust and wait to be
chosen. When you have done that He will raise you, and the Heavens will
ring with the joy of the great spirits who never fell, and who are
almost envious of the sinner doing Penance."

Molly bent her head low. "I see," she murmured, "mine have been merely
the guesses of an amateur; it is useless--I don't understand."

"It isn't, indeed it isn't," he said quietly. "It is the introduction.
The King is sending His heralds. Some are drawn to Him by the sense of
their own sinfulness, others, as you are, by a glimpse of His beauty."

Molly was not angry, only disappointed. The very habit of a life of
reserve must have brought some sense of disappointment in the result.
She did not mind being told that she must lie in the dust; the
abnegation was not abhorrent; she knew that love in itself sometimes
demanded humiliation. But she felt sad and discouraged. She had seemed
to have conquered a kingdom. Without exactly being proud of them, she
had felt her religious experiences to be very remarkable, and now she
saw that they only pointed to a very long road, hard to walk on. She got
up quickly and was near the door before he was.

"Will you come and see me?" she said, and she gave him her card. "If you
can, send me a postcard beforehand that I may not miss you. Good-bye."

He opened the front door for her and her carriage was waiting.

"The third time you have been late for dinner this week," observed the
Father Rector. "Have some mutton?"

"Thanks," said