ll you this next. It came on the way back
from India. She had gone there--but perhaps you won't be interested to
know why she went. Though I was more than twenty, I'd never had what
you might call a flirtation. I'd been kept by the Guides away from
men--as I'd once been kept from other children. There was a young
Englishman on the steamer. And I liked him."

Blake gave a sudden start, and rose automatically. So this confidence
led to another man--that was the obstacle! She seemed to catch his
thought.

"Oh, not that!" she cried; "he was only an incident--won't you hear
me?" Blake dropped at her feet again.

"But I liked him, though never any more--he was a friend and girls need
to play. But he wanted to be more than a friend. Aunt Paula passed us
on the deck one evening. After I had gone to bed, she came into my
stateroom. When the power is in her, I know it--and I never saw it so
strong as that night. It shone out of her. But that wasn't the strange
thing. Only twice before, had I heard the voices speak from her
mouth--mostly, she used to tell me what they said to her. But it was
not Aunt Paula talking then--it was Martha, her first and best control.
Shall I tell you all she said?"

Out of the confused impulses running through Dr. Blake, his sense of
humor spurted a moment to the fore. He found himself struggling to keep
back a smile at the picture of some fat old woman in a dressing gown
simulating hysteria that she might ruin a love affair. He was hard put
to make his voice sound sincere, as he answered:

"Yes, all."

"She said: 'Child, you are more influenced by this man than you know.
It is not the great love, but it is dangerous. You are to be the great
Light only after you have put aside a great earthly love. This vessel
from which I am speaking'--she meant Aunt Paula of course--'yielded to
an earthly love. That is why she is less than you will be. Would you
imperil truth?' It was something like that, only more. Ah, do you see
now?"

"I see," said his sense of humor, "that your Aunt Paula is a most
unlimited fakir."

"I see," said his voice, "but do you _believe_ it?"

"I've so much cause to believe that I can never tell you all. After
Aunt Paula came out of it, I told her what Martha had said. She was
dear and sympathetic. She put me to sleep; and when I woke, I was
resigned. I did not see him alone again. Now I understand more clearly.
When I have had that earthly love and put it aside, when I have