ch other after tonight," Theresa said, breaking the
stillness with her grave but not unkind voice. "Is there anything more
you would like to say to me, Maud?"

"Only that I shall always think of you, and grieve that we are parted."

"You are going into the world," said the other sadly, "my thoughts
cannot follow you there. But your purer spirit will often be with me."

"And your spirit with me. If I had been permitted to share your life,
that would have been my greatest joy. I am consciously choosing what my
soul would set aside. For a time I thought I had reconciled myself to
the world; I found delight in it, and came to look on the promptings of
the spirit as morbid fancies. That has passed. I know the highest, but
between me and it there is a gulf which it may be I shall never pass."

"It is only to few," said Theresa, looking at Maud with her smile of
assured peace, "that it is given to persevere and attain."

As they sat once more in silence, there suddenly came a light knock at
the house-door. At this moment Maud's thoughts had wandered back to a
Christmas of her childhood, when she had sat just as to-night with her
aunt, and had for the first time listened to those teachings which had
moulded her life. The intervening years were swept away, and she was
once more the thoughtful, wondering child, conscious of the great
difference between herself and her companions; in spite of herself
learning to regard the world in which they moved as something in which
she had no part. Of those school companions a few came back to her
mind, and, before all, the poor girl named Ida Starr, whom she had
loved and admired. What had become of Ida, after she had been sent away
from Miss Rutherford's school? She remembered that last meeting with
her in the street, on the evening of Christmas Day, and could see her
face.

The house door was opened, and Maud heard a voice outside which held
her to the spot where she stood. Then Theresa re-entered the room, and
after her came Paul Enderby.

He seemed to be wearing a disguise; at all events his clothing was that
of a working man, poor and worn, and his face was changed by the growth
of a beard. He shivered with cold, and, as Miss Bygrave closed the door
behind him, stood with eyes sunk to the ground, in an attitude of
misery and shame. Maud, recovering quickly from the shock his entrance
had caused her, approached him and took his hand.

"Father," she said gently. Her voice overcame