ing; "and so, Jessie, I
think, you see, with my new views of things, that five hundred dollars
is too much for a panel."

"Or for a picture, I suppose!" said Mrs. Burrage, with dry concentrated
expression.

"Depends. Decidedly too much for a picture not meant to be looked at?"

"Why shouldn't it be looked at?"

"People will not look much at what they cannot understand."

"Why shouldn't they understand it?"

"It is a representation of giving up all for Christ, and of
faithfulness unto death. What do the crowds who fill your second
drawing-room know about such experience?"

Mrs. Burrage had put the foregoing questions dryly and shortly,
examining her brother while he spoke, with intent, searching eyes. She
had risen once as if to go, and now sat down again. Lois thought she
even turned pale.

"Philip!--I never heard you talk so before. What do you mean?"

"Merely to let you know that I am a Christian. It is time."

"You were always a Christian!"

"In name. Now it is reality."

"You don't mean that you--_you!_--have become one of those fanatics?"

"What fanatics?"

"Those people who give up everything for religion, and are insane upon
the subject."

"You could not have described it better, than in the first half of your
speech. I have given up everything for religion. That is, I have given
myself and all I have to Christ and his service; and whatever I do
henceforth, I do only in that character and in that interest. But as to
sanity,"--he smiled again,--"I think I was never sane until now."

Mrs. Burrage had risen for the second time, and her brother was now
standing opposite to her; and if she had been proud of him a little
while before, it was Lois's turn now. The calm, clear frankness and
nobleness of his face and bearing made her heart fairly swell with its
gladness and admiration; but it filled the other woman's heart with a
different feeling.

"And this is you, Philip Dillwyn!" she said bitterly. "And I know you;
what you have said you will stand to. Such a man as you! lost to the
world!"

"Why lost to the world, Mrs. Burrage?" said Lois gently. She had risen
too. The other lady faced her.

"Without more knowledge of what the world is, I could hardly explain to
you," she said, with cool rudeness; the sort of insolence that a fine
lady can use upon occasion when it suits her. Philip's face flushed,
but he would not make the rudeness more palpable by seeming to notice
it.

"I hope it is the