ll--questions of baptism do not touch it--
it goes out of darkness into darkness and is annihilated. Is that
not so? So I assure myself, and sometimes I think that by the same
stroke God wiped out the immortal part of me with its sins, that my
body and brain go on living, but that the soul of your Hetty will
never come up for judgment, for it has ceased to be."

"Monstrous!"

"You understand," she went on wearily, "that this is but one of my
thoughts. My heart denies it whenever I long to creep back to Wroote
and listen to the old voices and be a child once more. But I am
showing you what is the truth--that upon one plea or another I put my
soul aside and excuse myself from troubling about it."

"Sadder hearing there could not be. You have an imperishable soul,
and owe it a care which should come before your duty even to your
husband."

"Ah, Jack, you may be a very great man: but you do not understand
women! I wonder if you ever will? For now you do not even begin to
understand."

He would have answered in hot anger, but a noise on the path
prevented him. Four sportsmen came wending homeward in the dusk,
shouldering their guns and laughing boisterously. In the loudest of
the guffaws he recognised the voice of Dick Ellison.

"Hallo!" The leader pulled himself up with a chuckle.
"Here's pretty goings-on--the little parson colloguing with a wench!
Dick, Dick, aren't you ashamed of your relatives?"

"Ashamed of them long ago," stuttered Dick, lurching forward. He had
been making free with the flask all day. "Who is it?" he demanded.

"Come, my lass--no need to be shy with me! Let's have a look at your
pretty face." The fellow plucked at Hetty's hood. John gripped his
arm, was flung off with an indecent oath, and gripped him again.

"This lady, sir, is my sister."

"Eh?" Dick Ellison peered into Hetty's face. "So it is, by Jove!
How d'ye do, Hetty?" He turned to his companion. "Well, you've made
a nice mistake," he chuckled.

The man guffawed and slouched on. In two strides John was after him
and had gripped him once more, this time by the collar.

"Not so fast, my friend!"

"Here, hands off! This gun's loaded. What the devil d'you want?"

"I want an apology," said John calmly. "Or rather, a couple of
apologies." He faced the quartette: they could scarcely see his
face, but his voice had a ring in it no less cheerful than firm.
"So far as I can make out in this light, gentlemen, you