going
to say, till she begins to trouble her heart about it--or rather to
untrouble her heart with it! The pharisee troubled his head, and no
doubt his conscience too, and did not go away justified; but the poor
publican, as we with our stupid pity would call him, troubled his heart
about it; and that trouble once set a going, there is no fear. Head and
all must soon follow.--But how am I to get rid of this plaster without
being seen?"

"I will show you the way to your own stair without going down--the way
we came once, you may remember. You can take it to the top of the house
till it is dark.--But I do not feel comfortable about my uncle's visit.
Can it be that he suspects something? Perhaps he knows all about the
chapel--and that stair too!"

"He is a man to enjoy having a secret!--But our discovery bears out
what we were saying as to the likeness of house and man--does it not?"

"You don't mean there is anything like that in me?" rejoined Arctura,
looking frightened.

"You!" he exclaimed. "--But I mean no individual application," he
added, "except as reflected from the general truth. This house is like
every human soul, and so, like me and you and all of us. We have found
the chapel of the house, the place they used to pray to God in, built
up, lost, forgotten, filled with dust and damp--and the mouldering dead
lying there before the Lord, waiting to be made live again and praise
him!"

"I said you meant me!" murmured Arctura, with a faint, sad smile.

"No; the time is past for that. It is long since first you were aware
of the dead self in the lost chapel; a hungry soul soon misses both,
and knows, without being sure of it, that they are somewhere. You have
kept searching for them in spite of all persuasion that the quest was
foolish."

Arctura's eyes shone in her pale face; but they shone with gathering
tears. Donal turned away, and took up the pail. She rose, and guided
him to his tower-stair, where he went up and she went down.

CHAPTER LVII.

THE HOUSEKEEPER'S ROOM.

As the clock upon the schoolroom chimney-piece struck the hour, Arctura
entered, and at once took her seat at the table with Davie--much to the
boy's wonder and pleasure. Donal gave her a Euclid, and set her a task:
she began at once to learn it--and after a while so brief that Davie
stared incredulous, said,

"If you please, Mr. Grant, I think I could be questioned upon it now."

Less than a minute sufficed to show Donal that