you to do. I
suppose it might be necessary for you to have come to some conclusion in
regard to the first principles of Theology; but probably you have already
satisfied yourself as to these in your own mind."

Rebecca looked little like one who had arrived at the calm plane of
philosophical conclusion of any sort.

"I don't know," she gasped.

"Well, take the Trinity, for instance," I continued, in a tone highly
suggestive of calm and supreme forbearance with helpless ignorance.
"Probably you believe in the Trinity?"

"Oh, I don't know," said Rebecca. "I don't know what it means. Nobody
ever told me; nobody ever talked to me about those things before."

"It's simply," I said; "a term implying the existence of three persons in
the Godhead. So the Trinitarians are distinguished from the Unitarians
who believe that it consists of one. I'm not particularly informed as to
the Methodist credentials of faith. You will always hear that they
believe that salvation is free to all who will accept of it. Some people
believe that man is a free agent, and may accept or refuse the means of
grace, and if he refuses, is eternally lost. And then, again, there are
the Universalists, who believe that all will be eventually saved. There
is the Calvinistic element--those who believe in predestination--that
is----"

Becky had laid her head down on the bed, and was quietly sobbing.

"My poor child," I exclaimed, with swift compassion, "don't think
anything more about what I have said to you. Let it go. It isn't vital."

"You don't hate me for not knowing anything?" sobbed Becky. "Nobody ever
tried to have me understand, before."

"You know enough; quite enough, dear!" I remarked hastily, producing from
my trunk a quantity of illustrated magazines. These we looked over
together, and when Becky went away, the tears were dried in her eyes, and
she was laughing as merrily as ever.

With the severely implied reproach of Madeline's words still in my mind,
I took pains to assume toward Luther Larkin a more elder-sisterly air
even than before.

It was true, I felt that I had been unjustly stung, having, amid the
press of other duties, undertaken the advancement of that bright youth,
from motives, I believed, of an ideal and disinterested nature. It was
also true, that, after the first enthusiasm with respect to his lessons
had passed away, as well as the natural diffidence he had at first felt
in my presence, Luther Larkin, though punct