thing. We don't even care whether he has any theology
or not."

"Good gracious, Ella! one would fancy that you thought----"

"Thought what?"

"I don't quite know. You see I met Mr. Courtland quite casually, just
as I met a dozen men at various places during the week. Why should you
question me more closely about him than about the dozen other men? He
only talked a little more widely, and perhaps wildly. His bravery is no
more to me than his theology."

"Of course it isn't, Phyllis. But there was the case of George
Holland--"

"That is very different, Ella. I had engaged myself to marry George
Holland. It would be impossible for me to marry any man who had shown
his contempt for--for everything that I regard as sacred."

"I believe it would, if you didn't love that man. But if you loved
the man----Oh, when you come to know what it means to love you will
understand all. A woman before she loves is--what is she, an egg before
it is hatched? That sounds ridiculous. Better say a green chrysalis
before it breaks into a butterfly; for the transition comes at
once. Theology! Oh, my Phyllis, haven't you read in history, true
history--novels written by men who know us and how we were created, and
why--haven't you read what women do when they truly love a man? How they
fling every consideration to the winds: heaven--home--husband--God--Mrs.
Grundy? Theology! Ah, you are a healthy girl. You never cared a scrap
for George Holland. You were glad when the excuse presented itself in
order to throw him over."

"Yes; I believe that is quite true."

Ella's cry of surprise, and her laugh that followed, shocked her
companion, and feeling that this was the case, the one who laughed
hastened to make her apologies.

"Don't be annoyed with me, dear," she cried. "But I really couldn't
help that laugh when I thought of your earnestness the week before
last. Then, you will remember, you were in great pain because of the
heterodoxy of George Holland. Didn't I tell you at that time that you
had never loved him? You were ready to assure me that you had, and that
you were making a great sacrifice to your principles?"

"I remember very well," said Phyllis, with a sound that was not far
removed from a sob.

"Ah, you are a puzzle to yourself, you poor little chrysalis," said
Ella, putting the meteoric feathers playfully down upon the serious
face of Phyllis--its seriousness was apparent beneath the light of the
carriage lamp. "No, don't ma