y saint would have risen in false testimony at such a
suggestion. Laura blushed so violently that for an instant the space
between them seemed full of the sound of her protest.

"I hope so, miss," she said, and looked as if for calming over Alicia's
shoulder away into the after-sunset bars along the sky. The colour
sank back out of her face, and the light from the window rested on it
ethereally. The beautiful mystery drew her eyes to seek, and their blue
seemed to deepen and dilate, as if the old splendour of the uplifted
golden gates rewarded them.

"Why do you use that odious word?" Alicia explained. "You are not my
maid! Don't do it again--don't dream of doing it again!"

"I--I don't know." The girl was still plainly covered with confusion
at being found in the house uninvited. "I suppose I forgot. Well,
good-evening," and she turned to the door.

"Don't go," Alicia commanded. "Don't. You never come to see me now. Sit
down." She dragged a chair forward and almost pushed Laura into it. "I
will sit down too--what am I thinking of?"

Laura reflected for a moment, looking at her folded hands. "I might as
well tell you," she said, "that I have not been praying that Mr. Lindsay
should get better. Only that he should be given time to find salvation
and die in Jesus."

"Don't--don't say those things to me. How light you are--it's wicked!"
Alicia returned with vehemence, and then as Captain Filbert stared, half
comprehending, "Don't you care?" she added curiously.

It was so casual that it was cruel. The girl's eyes grew wider still
during the instant she fixed them upon Alicia in the effort of complete
understanding. Then her lip trembled.

"How can I care?" she cried; "how can I?" and burst into weeping. She
drew her sari over her face and rocked to and fro. Her dusty bare foot
protruded from her cotton skirt. She sat huddled together, her head in
its coverings sunk between weak shaking shoulders. Alicia considered her
for an instant as a pitiable and degraded spectacle. Then she went over
and touched her.

"You are completely worn out," she said, "and it is almost dinner-time.
The ayah will bring you a hot bath and then you will come down and have
some food quietly with me. My brother is dining out somewhere. I will go
away for a little while and then I know you will feel better. And after
dinner," she added gently, "you may come up if you like and pray again
for Mr. Lindsay. I am sure he would--"

The faintest