rocession. He compared her life with that of Sally's, the ghastly
hollowness of it in contrast with this child's simplicity of faith.
The picture was an ugly one. He shuddered before the first, no less
than before the second; for whereas one repelled, the other drew him
to itself with all its subtle fascinations.

"Now," he said, forcing a smile and turning round to face her with
his hand upon the handle of the door, "these are only bachelor's
quarters, remember; no soft cushions, no mirrors--nothing. And if
you'll stay there one second, I'll light a couple of candles. You'd
far better have the room chucked at you all at once, than let it grow
slowly to your eyes as I stalk round with a match. Do you mind?"

"I? Not a bit!" She laughed and turned with her back to the door,
looking down the staircase which they had just ascended. Her heart
was still beating, throbbing with unwonted excitement and
anticipation. She knew she could trust, but there was a spring--a
vibration in the thought that they played with fire. Yet what a
harmless fire! No stake in the marketplace at which the soul, the
honour, the life of the victim is burnt! No! Nothing like that. Only
that fire which, when once it is lit, soothes, warms, nurses the
hearts of men and women into love, and when once it is glowing white
in heat, moulds them, forges them into the God-sent cohesion of unity.
What need had she to fear in playing with so tenderly fierce a fire
as that? None, and there was no trace of fear in the heart of her;
but her pulses hammered; she felt them even in her throat.

"Now--you can come in now!" Traill called, and he came to the door,
opening it wide for her to pass through.

Sally entered--two or three steps; then she stood there looking round
her. The old oak chests, carved some of them, worm-eaten here and
there; the clean, pale, straw-coloured matting, no rugs of any
description: the dark green walls and the rough, heavy brass candle
sconces that glittered against them, reflecting the candle flames
in every polished surface: it was almost barbaric, more like a
reception room of a presbytery than a living room; but a presbytery
decorated to convey the best of a strong and self-reliant mind,
rather than to pander with a taste ornate to the futile conception
of a God.

Except for two rush-seated armchairs, there was no suggestion of
providing any recognized forms of comfort. The chair at the open
bureau, with its case of books above