makes me feel ill," she replied
apologetically; "not even an accident or an after-meeting."

Christopher could not help indulging in a certain amount of envious
admiration for an organism that could pass unmoved through such physical
and spiritual crises as these; but he was not going to let Elisabeth see
that he admired her. He considered it "unmanly" to admire girls.

"Well, you are a rum little cove!" he said.

"Of course, I don't want to go if you think it would be horrid of me;
but I thought we might pretend it was the execution of Mary Queen of
Scots, and find it most awfully exciting."

"How you do go on about Mary Queen of Scots! Not long ago you were
always bothering about heathen goddesses, and now you have no thought
for anything but Mary."

"Oh! but I'm still immensely interested in goddesses, Chris; and I do
wish, when you are doing Latin and Greek at school, you'd find out what
colour Pallas Athene's hair was. Couldn't you?"

"No; I couldn't."

"But you might ask one of the masters. They'd be sure to know."

Christopher laughed the laugh of the scornful. "I say, you are a duffer
to suppose that clever men like schoolmasters bother their heads about
such rot as the colour of a woman's hair."

"Of course, I know they wouldn't about a woman's," Elisabeth hastened to
justify herself; "but I thought perhaps they might about a goddess's."

"It is the same thing. You've no idea what tremendously clever chaps
schoolmasters are--much too clever to take any interest in girls' and
women's concerns. Besides, they are too old for that, too--they are
generally quite thirty."

Elisabeth was silent for a moment; and Christopher whistled as he looked
across the green valley to the sunset, without in the least knowing how
beautiful it was. But Elisabeth knew, for she possessed an innate
knowledge of many things which he would have to learn by experience. But
even she did not yet understand that because the sunset was beautiful
she felt a sudden hunger and thirst after righteousness.

"Chris, do you think it is wicked of people to fall in love?" she asked
suddenly.

"Not exactly wicked; more silly, I should say," replied Chris
generously.

"Because if it is wicked, I shall give up reading tales about it." This
was a tremendous and unnatural sacrifice to principle on the part of
Elisabeth.

Christopher turned upon her sharply. "You don't read tales that Miss
Farringdon hasn't said you may read, do you?"