. It confuses me, too. If good people like you
care nothing about death--if you only laugh--"

"I beg your pardon, Miss Lambert, I never intended to be either harsh
or contemptuous. I do not accept--I mean to say I am _unable_ to
accept--your faith. I confess that my mind refuses to entertain the
postulates of what Clarke considers a religion. I must be honest. I am
a 'sceptic,' so far as your faith goes, but that does not mean that I
do not believe in the sincerity of your mother; and as to your own
powers--I do not wish to dogmatize, for the physical universe is a
very large and complicate thing, and, young as I am"--here he
smiled--"I don't pretend to a knowledge of all it contains."

She accepted his explanation, and, with musing candor, replied: "I
don't really blame you. I suppose if these things had happened to some
one else I would not have believed in them. I have thought a great
deal of what you said to me. I want to get away from that house; I am
hating Mr. Pratt more and more, and I will leave to-morrow if
grandfather will only consent. If he comes to you to-night, tell him
so--maybe my father will come, too. I want you to know my father. I'm
sure you will like him. Isn't it strange that I have never been able
to hear his voice?"

He ignored her question. "I do not understand the motives of your
'guides'--I cannot conceive of myself sacrificing you to any cause
whatsoever."

"Don't awaken my doubts," she cried, despairingly. "I don't know why
it is, but you always rouse in me something that makes war."

"I'm sorry if I seem to corrupt you."

"I don't mean that," she hastened to say. "The life which you and your
sister represent is the life I love. I was almost resigned to my fate
when your sister called upon me. Now I'm all rebellion again. Being
here to-night makes me hate all that I am. I hate my very name. I hate
Pratt and his horrible house--I almost hate my mother. Sometimes she
is so cruel to me. She don't mean to be, but she is."

His face grew reflective, almost stern. "I wish there were some way of
taking you out of the world in which you now suffer. I wish--" He
paused, checked by the thought of Clarke's claims upon her.

"There is only one way--my grandfather must consent to my release; he
rules us all."

This delusion rose like a stone wall at the end of every avenue, and
Morton turned to a personal explanation. "I cannot associate what you
seem to me now with what you were when I last