ic," said the young man drily; "the flute,
of all instruments, has a mellow sound." Suddenly his eyes darkened, he
became abstracted, and gazed at the window where the twig flicked softly
against the pane, and the heat of summer palpitated in the air. "It has
good grace to my ear," he added slowly.

Luke Claridge looked at him intently. He began to realize that there
were forces stirring in his grandson which had no beginning in Claridge
blood, and were not nurtured in the garden with the fruited wall. He was
not used to problems; he had only a code, which he had rigidly kept. He
had now a glimmer of something beyond code or creed.

He saw that the shrill Elder was going to speak. He intervened. "Thee is
charged, David," he said coldly, "with kissing a woman--a stranger and
a wanton--where the four roads meet 'twixt here and yonder town." He
motioned towards the hills.

"In the open day," added the shrill Elder, a red spot burning on each
withered cheek.

"The woman was comely," said the young man, with a tone of irony,
recovering an impassive look.

A strange silence fell, the women looked down; yet they seemed not so
confounded as the men. After a moment they watched the young man with
quicker flashes of the eye.

"The answer is shameless," said the shrill Elder. "Thy life is that of a
carnal hypocrite."

The young man said nothing. His face had become very pale, his lips were
set, and presently he sat down and folded his arms.

"Thee is guilty of all?" asked John Fairley.

His kindly eye was troubled, for he had spent numberless hours in this
young man's company, and together they had read books of travel and
history, and even the plays of Shakespeare and Marlowe, though drama was
anathema to the Society of Friends--they did not realize it in the life
around them. That which was drama was either the visitation of God or
the dark deeds of man, from which they must avert their eyes. Their own
tragedies they hid beneath their grey coats and bodices; their dirty
linen they never washed in public, save in the scandal such as this
where the Society must intervene. Then the linen was not only washed,
but duly starched, sprinkled, and ironed.

"I have answered all. Judge by my words," said David gravely.

"Has repentance come to thee? Is it thy will to suffer that which we
may decide for thy correction?" It was Elder Fairley who spoke. He was
determined to control the meeting and to influence its judgment. He
l