Whereat she quickly disappeared.

Maryllia turned her head round on her pillows and watched John's tall straight figure slowly approaching. A delicate, Spring-like odour floated to her as he came, and she saw that he carried a bunch of violets. Then she held out her hand.

"I am very glad to see you, Mr. Walden!"

He tried to speak, but could not. Without a word he laid the violets gently down on the silk coverlet of her couch. She took them up at once and kissed them.

"How sweet they are!" she murmured--"The first I have had given to me this year!"

She smiled up at him gratefully, and pointed to a chair close beside her.

"Will you sit near me?" she said--"And then we can talk!"

Silently he obeyed. To see her lying there so quietly resigned and helpless, nearly unmanned him, but he did brave battle with his own emotions. He took her little offered hand and gently kissed it. If to touch its soft smooth whiteness sent fire through his veins, there was no sign of feeling in his face. He was grave and strangely impassive.

"I am grieved to see you like this---" he began.

"Yes, I am sure you are!" she quickly interrupted him--"But please do not talk about it just now! I want to forget my poor crippled body altogether for a little while. I've had so much bother with it lately! I want to talk to you about my soul. That's not crippled. And you can tell me just what it is and what I am to do with it."

He gazed at her in a kind of bewildered wonder.

"Your soul!"--he murmured, "Yes." And a shadow of sad and wistful thought darkened her features--"You see I may not live very long,--and I ought to be properly prepared in case I die. I know you will explain everything that is difficult to me,--because you seem to be sure of your faith. You remember your sermon on the soul, when I came to church just that once?"

He bent his head. He could find no words with which to interrupt her.

"Well, I have often thought of it since,--and I have longed--oh, so much!--to make a confession to you! But may I ask you one or two questions first?"

His dry lips moved--and he whispered, rather than spoke-"You may! But are you not distressing yourself about matters which-- which perhaps--could wait---?"




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