'Who has told you so? You did not know it of yourself. What evil
communication corrupts you?'

There was no answer but the sufficient one of the boy's conscious face.
There was that in the fire of it that inspired Lois to groan in her
heart: 'My boy has met a daughter of perdition.'

She did not miss her Bible again.

Lois's divination of the truth preceded Christian's, though again into
the presence of Diadyomene had he made his way. There he went
high-hearted on a service that sanctioned all risks--the recovery to the
fair witch of her lost soul, fair too he was sure.

When he summoned her to baptism with the first breath, she laughed him
off. No, no, she would have none of it. Let him tell her first that of
the nature of a secret, as he said he would some day. And Christian,
seeing it was indeed germane, delivered the story of the child cut off
unbaptized, to the mother's undying remorse. She rewarded him.

'And she would have cared for the little dead body to kiss! Ah, poor
mother!' she said softly and regretfully, so that his eyes grew moist.

'Diadyomene, if I die of the sea, would you be so far pitiful as to
render to her my body again?'

'No,' she mocked; 'I myself would keep it. Did I not promise as much at
the first?' Then she derided the poor limitation that would die of the
sea through foolish preference of a soul.

He took up his mission with all his best powers well ordered; but to no
purpose he persisted--she fenced too well for him. She began by denying
any value to her soul; before they ended she challenged him to prove his
own existence; and, to his amazement, he found that he could not against
her, and rude demonstration he did not dare.

He brought off with unsuccess, great joy by her least favour, sharp
stings by her least resentment, yet no suspicion that the sea-witch had
him in the toils.

Giles mending Rhoda's shoes clacked fondly: 'A pretty little foot she
has. Such a pit-a-pat little pair I never did see.'

Away to sacred white sands flew Christian's thoughts: he wondered if
slender footmarks lay there, and which way set. A little folly came into
his mind: to plant his bare feet over those dints pace by pace--delicate
near paces; for the soles of his feet to walk intimate with the mould of
hers. The little folly in his mind extended, set also his palm to the
sand, his cheek, his brow. He came to himself from foot to face tingling,
and amazed.

'A sweet, pretty wench!' was Gil