y the name of
sin, she did not believe she had any at all. It had never, until now,
occurred to her that the treating of her best Friend, during a lifetime,
with cool and systematic indifference, or with mere protestations, on
Sundays, of adoration, was probably as great a sin as she could commit.

Her thoughts on these points she did not at first mention to any one,
but she received great help and enlightenment, as well as comfort, from
the quiet sensible talk of Dr Lawrence, as he sat day after day, and
hour after hour, at the bedside of his friend, endeavouring to cheer his
spirits as well as to relieve his physical pain--for Lawrence was well
fitted to do both.

He was not by any means what is styled a sermoniser. He made no
apparent effort to turn conversation into religious channels. Indeed we
believe that when men talk with the unrestrained freedom of true
friendship, conversation needs no directing. It will naturally flow
along all channels, and into all the zigzags and crevices of human
thought--religion included. Lewis was in great pain and serious danger.
Lawrence was a man full of the Holy Spirit and love to Jesus. Out of
the fullness of his heart his mouth spoke when his friend appeared to
desire such converse; but he never bored him with _any_ subject--for it
is possible to be a profane, as well as a religious, bore!

As soon as Lewis could turn his mind to anything, after his being
brought back to the hotel, he asked earnestly after Nita Horetzki.

"She has left," said Mrs Stoutley.

"Left! D'you mean gone from Chamouni, mother?" exclaimed Lewis, with a
start and a look of anxiety which he did not care to conceal.

"Yes, they went yesterday. Nita had recovered sufficiently to travel,
and the medical man who has been attending her urged her removal without
delay. She and her father seemed both very sorry to leave us, and left
kind messages for you. The Count wanted much to see you, but we would
not allow it."

"Kind messages for me," repeated Lewis, in a tone of bitterness, "what
sort of messages?"

"Well, really, I cannot exactly remember," returned Mrs Stoutley, with
a slight smile, "the kind of messages that amiable people might be
expected to leave in the circumstances, you know--regret that they
should have to leave us in such a sad condition, and sincere hope that
you might soon recover, etcetera. Yes, by the way, Nita also, just at
parting, expressed a hope--an earnest hope--that