s well as with the world?

The door was opened softly. Julia came in. Perhaps she guessed from
his attitude something of his trouble, for she moved at once to his
side.

"They have gone?" she asked.

"They have gone," he admitted.

She sighed.

"I shall not ask you anything," she said, "because I know. Pigs of
men--pigs with their noses to the ground! How can they lift their
heads! You could not make them understand!"

"I scarcely tried," he confessed. "They have found out, for one thing,
that I am wealthy, a fact that does not concern them in the least, and
they accused me of it as though it were a crime. It was all so
hopeless. You cannot make men understand who have not the capacity
for understanding. You cannot make the blind see. They even reminded
me that they were Englishmen. They talked the usual rubbish about
conquest and foreign enemies and patriotism."

"Clods!" she muttered. "But you?"

She sat down beside him, her eyes full of light. She laid her hands
boldly upon his.

"You will not let yourself be discouraged?" she I pleaded. "Remember
that even if you are alone in the world, you are right. You fight
without hope of reward, without hope of appreciation. You will be the
enemy of every one, and yet you know in your heart that you have the
truth. You know it, and I know it, and Aaron knows it, and David Ross
believes it. There are millions of others, if you could only find them,
who understand, too--men too great to come out from their studies and
talk claptrap to the mob. There are other people in the world who
understand, who will sympathise. What does it matter that you cannot
hear their spoken voices? And we--well, you know about us."

Her voice was almost a caress, the loneliness in his heart was so
intense.

"Oh, you know about us!" she continued. "I--oh, I am your slave! And
Aaron! We believe, we understand. There isn't anything in this world,"
she went on, with a little sob, "there isn't anything I wouldn't gladly
do to help you! If only one could help!"

He returned very gently the pressure of her burning fingers. She drew
his eyes towards hers, and he was startled to see in those few minutes
how beautiful she was. There was inspiration in her splendidly modelled
face--the high forehead, the eyes brilliantly clear, kindled now with
the light of enthusiasm and all the softer burning of her exquisite
sympathy. Her lips--full and red they seemed--were slightly parted.
She was breathing