sical balance of the man. She wondered
what belief gave him the free mastery of soul and body he possessed.
Some firm conviction, she was sure, must energise him yet she respected
him the more for concealing it.

"It's hard to understand such a terrible religion!" she cried. "I don't
see how those old settlers could believe in it, when there are such
beautiful things in the world, if we only open our eyes and look for
them. Oh Mr. Insall, I wish I could tell you how I felt when I read your
story, and when Mrs. Maturin read me those other books of yours."

She stopped breathlessly, aghast at her boldness--and then, suddenly, a
barrier between them seemed to break down, and for the first time since
she had known him she felt near to him. He could not doubt the sincerity
of her tribute.

"You like them as much as that, Janet?" he said, looking at her.

"I can't tell you how much, I can't express myself. And I want to tell
you something else, Mr. Insall, while I have the chance--how just being
with you and Mrs. Maturin has changed me. I can face life now, you have
shown me so much in it I never saw before."

"While you have the chance?" he repeated.

"Yes." She strove to go on cheerfully, "Now I've said it, I feel
better, I promise not to mention it again. I knew--you didn't think
me ungrateful. It's funny," she added, "the more people have done for
you-when they've given you everything, life and hope,--the harder it
is to thank them." She turned her face away, lest he might see that her
eyes were wet. "Mrs. Maturin will be expecting us."

"Not yet," she heard him say, and felt his hand on her arm. "You haven't
thought of what you're doing for me."

"What I'm doing for you!" she echoed. "What hurts me most, when I think
about it, is that I'll never be able to do anything."

"Why do you say that?" he asked.

"If I only could believe that some day I might be able to help you--just
a little--I should be happier. All I have, all I am I owe to you and
Mrs. Maturin."

"No, Janet," he answered. "What you are is you, and it's more real
than anything we could have put into you. What you have to give
is--yourself." His fingers trembled on her arm, but she saw him smile a
little before he spoke again. "Augusta Maturin was right when she said
that you were the woman I needed. I didn't realize it then perhaps she
didn't--but now I'm sure of it. Will you come to me?"

She stood staring at him, as in terror, suddenly penetra