that you've been doing too much. Do you know that I look upon Mr. Schuabe as a really good man! I have often thought about him, and even prayed that he may learn the truth; but God has many instruments. Mr. Schuabe is sincere in his unbelief. His life and all his actions are for the good of others. It is terrible—it is deplorable—to know he attacks Christianity; but he is tolerent and large-minded also. Yes, I should call him a good man. He will come to God some day. God would not have given him such power over the minds and bodies of men otherwise."
Gortre smiled a little sadly,—a rather wan smile, which sat strangely upon his strong and hearty face—, but he said no more.
He knew that his attitude was illogical, perhaps it could be called bigoted and intolerant—a harsh indictment in these easy, latitudinarian days; but his conviction was an intuition. It came from within, from something outside or beyond his reason, and would not be stifled.
"Well, dear," he said, "perhaps it is as you say. Nerves which are overwrought, and a system which is run down, certainly have their say, and a large say, too, in one's attitude towards any one. Now you must go to bed. I will go down and say good-night to the rector and Mr. Schuabe—just to show there's no ill-feeling; though, goodness knows, I oughtn't to jest about the man. Good-night, sweet one; God bless you. Remember me also in your prayers to-night."
She kissed him in her firm, brave way—a kiss so strong and loving, so pure and sweet, that he went away from that little room of books and bric-à-brac as if he had been sojourning in some shrine.
As Basil came into the study he found Mr. Byars and Schuabe in eager, animated talk. A spirit decanter had
