ight of the sanctuary lamp? I looked reproachfully at St.
Stanislaus, as if that seraphic youth had betrayed my confidence. I
suspected him of being too anxious to rid himself of the ambiguous
trust imposed upon him without so much as a by-your-leave. Perhaps he
was secretly irked at the use to which his painted semblance had been
put, and seized this first opportunity to extricate himself from a
position in which the boldest saint of them all might well hesitate to
find himself.

I began to consider John Flint as he was, the work he had
accomplished, the splendid structure of that life slowly and
laboriously made over and lived so cleanly in the light of day. Not
only had that old evil personality been sloughed off like a larval
skin; he had come forth from it another creature, a being lovable,
wise, tender, full of charm. Even the hint of melancholy that was
becoming more and more a part of him endeared him to others, for the
broader and brighter the light into which he was steadily mounting,
the more marked and touching was this softening shadow.

And I who had been the _accoucheur_ of his genius, I who had watched
and prayed and ministered beside the cradle of his growth, was I of
all men to threaten his overthrow? Alas, what madness was upon me that
I was evoking before the very altar the grim ghost of Slippy McGee?

There passed before me in procession the face of Laurence with all its
boyish bloom stripped from it and the glory of its youth vanished; and
the bowed and humbled head of James Eustis, one of the large and noble
souls of this world; and the innocent beauty of Mary Virginia,
wistfully appealing; followed them the beautiful ruthless face of
Hunter, dazzlingly blonde, gold-haired as Baldur; and the piglike eyes
and heavy jowl of Inglesby, brutally dominant; and then the dear
whimsical visage of the Butterfly Man himself. They passed; and I fell
to praying, with a sort of still desperation, for all of us.

And all the while the steady and rosy light of the sanctuary lamp fell
upon me, and the little lights flickered before the silent saints. I
took myself in hand, forced myself into self-control. I did not
minimize one risk nor slur one danger. I knew exactly what was at
stake. And having done this, I decided upon my course:

"If he has thought of this himself, then I will help. But if he has
not, I will not suggest it, no, no matter what happens."

I told myself I would say ten more Hailmarys, and