"Suppose you knew he meant it?" persisted Thorpe, looking at her keenly.

"Then," said Araminta, tenderly, "I'd feel very, very sorry."

"Exactly, and why? Because, as you say, you love him. And God is
love, Araminta. Do you understand?"

Upon the cramped and imprisoned soul of the child, the light slowly
dawned. "God is love," she repeated, "and nobody would burn people
they loved."

There was an illuminating silence, then Thorpe spoke again. He told
Araminta of a love so vast and deep that it could not be measured by
finite standards; of infinite pity and infinite pardon. This love was
everywhere; it was impossible to conceive of a place where it was
not--it enveloped not only the whole world, but all the shining worlds
beyond. And this love, in itself and of itself, was God.

"This," said Araminta, touching the book timidly; "is it bad?"

"Nothing is bad," explained Thorpe, carefully, "which does not harm you
or some one else. Of the two, it is better to harm yourself than
another. How does the book make you feel?"

"It makes me feel as if the world was a beautiful place, and as if I
ought to be better, so I could make it still more beautiful by living
in it."

"Then, Araminta, it is a good book."

Thorpe went down-stairs strangely uplifted. To him, Truth was not a
creed, but a light which illumined all creeds. His soul was aflame
with eagerness to help and comfort the whole world. Miss Evelina was
waiting in the hall, veiled and silent, as always.

She opened the door, but Thorpe lingered, striving vainly for the right
word. He could not find it, but he had to speak.

"Miss Evelina," he stammered, the high colour mounting to his temples,
"if there should ever be anything I can do for you, will you let me
know?"

She seemed to shrink back into her veil. "Yes," she said, at length,
"I will." Then, fearing she had been ungracious, she added: "Thank
you."

His mood of exaltation was still upon him, and he wandered long in the
woods before going home. His spirit dwelt in the high places, and from
the height he gained the broad view.

When he entered the house. Miss Mehitable was waiting for him with a
torrent of questions. When he had an opportunity to reply he reported
that he had seen Doctor Ralph and Araminta could come home almost any
time, now. Yes, he had talked with Araminta about her soul, and she
had cried. He thought he had done her good by going, and was greatly
indebted