nished, he cast it upon the
table, returning to his newspaper.

"Hoots!" said he; "the woman's mad!" And then meditatively, after he had
finished his newspaper paragraph: "What dealings have you ever had with
her?"

"I never had any dealings with her."

"When you get a letter from a strange woman"--the father spoke with some
heat--"the best thing that you can do with it is to put it in the fire."

Now, Caius knew that his father had, as a usual thing, that kindly and
simple way of looking at the actions of his fellow-men which is
refinement, so that it was evident that the contents of the letter were
hateful. That was to be expected. The point that aroused the son's
curiosity was to know how far the father recognised an obligation
imposed by the letter. The letter would be hateful just in so far as it
was considered worthy of attention.

"I suppose," said the young man dubiously, "that we can easily find out
at Souris whether the statements in the letter are true or not?"

The father continued to read his paper.

The lamp upon the unpolished walnut table had no shade or globe upon it,
and it glared with all the brilliancy of clean glass, and much wick and
oil. The dining-room was orderly as ever. The map of Palestine, the old
Bible, and some newly-acquired commentaries, obtruded themselves
painfully as ornaments. There was no nook or corner in which anything
could hide in shadow; there were no shutters on the windows, for there
was no one to pass by, unless it might be some good or evil spirit that
floated upon the dark air.

Mr. Simpson continued to read his paper without heeding his son. The
mother's voice chiding the maid in the next room was the only sound that
broke the silence.

"I'll write to that merchant you used to know at Souris, father," Caius
spoke in a business-like voice. "He will be able to find out from all
the vessels that come in to what extent there is disease on the
Magdalens."

The exciting cause in Caius of this remark was his father's indifference
and opposition, and the desire to probe it.

"You'll do nothing of the sort." Simpson's answer was very testy. "What
call have you to interfere with the Magdalens?" His anger rose from a
cause perhaps more explicable to an onlooker than to himself.

In the course of years there had grown in the mind of Caius much
prejudice against the form and measure of his parents' religion. He
would have throttled another who dared to criticise them, y