o nothing more. We shall do better now in the daylight--and
three of us instead of one!"

"What a huge block of chimneys!" said Arctura.

"Is it not!" returned Donal. "It indicates the hugeness of the building
below us, of which we can see so little. Like the volcanoes of the
world, it tells us how much fire is necessary to keep our dwelling
warm."

"I thought it was the sun that kept the earth warm," said Davie.

"So it is, but not the sun alone. The earth is like a man: the great
glowing fire is God in the heart of the earth, and the great sun is God
in the sky, keeping it warm on the other side. Our gladness and
pleasure, our trouble when we do wrong, our love for all about us, that
is God inside us; and the beautiful things and lovable people, and all
the lessons of life in history and poetry, in the Bible, and in
whatever comes to us, is God outside of us. Every life is between two
great fires of the love of God. So long as we do not give ourselves up
heartily to him, we fear his fire will burn us. And burn us it does
when we go against its flames and not with them, refusing to burn with
the fire with which God is always burning. When we try to put it out,
or oppose it, or get away from it, then indeed it burns!"

"I think I know," said Davie.

Arctura held her peace.

"But now," said Donal, "I must go round and have a peep at the other
side of the chimney-stack."

He disappeared, and Arctura and Davie stood waiting his return. They
looked each in the other's face with the delight of consciously sharing
a great adventure. Beyond their feet lay the wide country and the great
sea; over them the sky with the sun in it going down towards the
mountains; under their feet the mighty old pile that was their home;
and under that the earth with its molten heart of fire.

But Davie's look soon changed to one of triumph in his tutor. "Is is
not grand," it said, "to be all day with a man like that--talking to
you and teaching you?" That at least was how Arctura interpreted it,
reading in it almost an assertion of superiority, in as much as this
man was his tutor and not hers. She replied to the look in words:--

"I am his pupil, too, Davie," she said, "though Mr. Grant does not know
it."

"How can that be," answered Davie, "when you are afraid of him? I am
not a bit afraid of him!"

"How do you know I am afraid of him?" she asked.

"Oh, anybody could see that!"

She was afraid she had spoken foolishly, and Dav