of the power of Princes struck him as curiously feminine; how
little she understood of politics!

"It is rather a case," said he, "of harm that you cannot prevent, except
in one way. What have you in your mind? Is it the wish to sit upon a
throne?"

"Oh, no!" she said; "I shall never like being queen." Then, after a
pause, she added honestly, "All the same, I could do things,
then--things which I have longed to do; and I know that he would let
me."

Her face glowed at the prospect; and suddenly she turned upon him a full
look of self-confidence and courage, and there was challenge in her
tone.

"I know far more about the poor than you do, father," she said, "and
much more of their needs. If I were queen I would have a house down
among the slums; and I would never spend Christmas, or Easter, or Good
Friday in any other place." Her voice broke. "I would try--I would try,"
she said, "to set up Christianity in high places. That has been my
dream."

"Have you told your dream to the Prince?"

She smiled tenderly, and with confidence. "He is already helping to
make it come true. I asked him to be upon the Commission. That is why he
is there."

"You?"

The Archbishop was now realizing that he knew very little about his
daughter, and she not only amazed him, she frightened him. For the first
time he feared that he might lose the great stakes for which he was
playing; and one thing was essential--this woman, this domestic pawn
which he held in his hand, must never be allowed to become queen.

And so with great pain he forced himself, and spoke on. How right he had
been when he told the Prime Minister that in one way or another
sacrifice would be required of him! For now he was going to sacrifice
his most sacred conventions, his ideal of how an unmarried woman should
be trained.

"My child," he said, "do you think that you know this man?"

"Yes; I know him better than any one else in the world."

"Do you also know his life?"

Jenifer's look turned on him a little curiously.

"I know," she said, "that he is not really a Christian."

"Ah!" he exclaimed, in a sort of joy, decorously flavored with grief,
"that I did not know! Of course that explains everything. The rest
inevitably follows."

"What follows?"

"No man who is not a Christian leads a life that will stand looking
into." And then, avoiding her eyes, he spoke of things which he knew;
some of them in certain quarters were almost common property; of ot