or
Fortescue.

"Impossible," said Theobald. "The chief interest of man is the condition
of his neighbour's soul."

"Could he not be induced to look after his own?" Hadria demanded.

"All fun would be over," said Professor Fortescue.

"I wish one could have an Act of Parliament, obliging every man to leave
his neighbour's soul in peace."

"You would sap the very source of human happiness and enterprise,"
Professor Fortescue asserted, fantastically.

"I should be glad if I could think the average human being had the
energy to look after _any_ business; even other people's!" cried Lady
Engleton.

"I believe that, as a matter of fact, the soul is a hibernating
creature," said Theobald, with a chuckle.

"It certainly has its drowsy winters," observed Hadria.

"Ah! but its spring awakenings!" cried Miss Du Prel.

The chime of a clock startled them with its accusation of lingering too
long. The hostess remonstrated at the breaking up the party. Why should
they hurry away?

"The time when we could lay claim to have 'hurried' has long since
passed, Lady Engleton," said Hubert, "we can only plead forgiveness by
blaming you for making us too happy."

Professor Theobald went to the window. "What splendid moonlight! Lady
Engleton, don't you feel tempted to walk with your guests to the end of
the avenue?"

The idea was eagerly adopted, and the whole party sallied forth together
into the brilliant night. Long black shadows of their forms stalked on
before them, as if, said Valeria, they were messengers from Hades come
to conduct each his victim to the abode of the shades.

Professor Theobald shuddered.

"I hate that dreadful chill idea of the Greeks. I have much too strong a
hold on this pleasant earth to relish the notion of that gloomy
under-world yet a while. What do you say, Mrs. Temperley?"

She made some intentionally trite answer.

Professor Theobald's quick eyes discovered a glow-worm, and he shouted
to the ladies to come and see the little green lantern of the spring.
The mysterious light was bright enough to irradiate the blades of grass
around it, and even to cast a wizard-like gleam on the strange face of
the Professor as he bent down close to the ground.

"Fancy being a lamp to oneself!" cried Lady Engleton.

"It's as much as most of us can do to be a lamp to others," commented
Hadria.

"Some one has compared the glow-worm's light to Hero's, when she waited,
with trimmed lamp, for her Leander,"