Miss Lothrop has experience in some other things," Philip returned
immoveably. But the appeal put Lois in great embarrassment.

"What is the picture?" she asked, as the best way out of it.

"It's a St. Sebastian," Mrs. Burrage answered shortly.

"Do you know the story?" asked Philip. "He was an officer in the
household of the Roman emperor, Diocletian; a Christian; and discovered
to be a Christian by his bold and faithful daring in the cause of
truth. Diocletian ordered him to be bound to a tree and shot to death
with arrows, and that the inscription over his head should state that
there was no fault found in him but only that he was a Christian. This
picture my sister wants to buy, shows him stripped and bound to the
tree, and the executioner's work going on. Arrows are piercing him in
various places; and the saint's face is raised to heaven with the look
upon it of struggling pain and triumphing faith together. You can see
that the struggle is sharp, and that only strength which is not his own
enables him to hold out; but you see that he will hold out, and the
martyr's palm of victory is even already waving before him."

Lois's eyes eagerly looked into those of the speaker while he went on;
then they fell silently. Mrs. Burrage grew impatient.

"You tell it with a certain _gout_," she said. "It's a horrid story!"

"O, it's a beautiful story!" said Lois, suddenly looking up.

"If you like horrors," said the lady, shrugging her shoulders. "But I
believe you are one of that kind yourself, are you not?"

"Liking horrors?" said Lois, in astonishment.

"No, no, of course! not that. But I mean, you are one of that saint's
spiritual relations. Are you not? You would rather be shot than live
easy?"

Philip bit his lip; but Lois answered with the most delicious
simplicity,--

"If living easy implied living unfaithful, I hope I would rather be
shot." Her eyes looked, as she spoke, straight and quietly into those
of her visitor.

"And I hope I would," added Philip.

"_You?_" said his sister, turning sharp upon him. "Everybody knows you
would!"

"But everybody does not know yet that I am a fellow-servant of that
Sebastian of long ago; and that to me now, faithful and unfaithful mean
the same that they meant to him. Not faithfulness to man, but
faithfulness to God--or unfaithfulness."

"Philip!--"

"And as faithfulness is a word of large comprehension, it takes in also
the use of money," Mr. Dillwyn went on smil