Paths of Judgement

m purely intellectual, a husk that hardly touched her inner life. Her thoughts dwelt upon lofty towers; her motives and actions often scuffled in the dust.

nitions; but her sympathy, her tenderness, her claiming of highest aims were tools to her-though she did not know that they wer

no challenging of her effectiveness, but ano

heart, rather, though with a dexterity in the presentation of it that allowed her to feign only the giving of deep friendship if other givings were ignored. Again and again Maurice had retreated, though always with outstretched hands, hands that kept the clasp of friendship, a smile that salved her pride by recognizing only friendship in her smile. And now upon the devo

this was no more than one; Maurice never concealed his raptures; his very frankness

ciousness. And while fully conscious of the nobility of her own attitude in its stooping to the shallow little girl, in

harpened by the arrival n

itude towards them, her placing of herself in a position where she could evade no weapons. Any that struck her father would strike her. She not only stood beside him, she stood before him. Angela in a swift simile saw her so standing, a funny, female, little Saint Sebastian, struck all over with shafts of lightly feathered irony. She could not help the simile, though thrusting away the satisfaction

with an altogether out-of-date intelligence, petrified in its funny pride. But what a character! What grotesque vanity! How he must jar upon you and your

had never before been able to feel him as insignificant was now enabled to see h

otist. Ballooned assurance! His mind is a mince-meat of little scraps from all the lesser thinkers of the century!

hension slipping from her. The youthful indifference in which she used to seek refuge was failing her; she couldn't tell herself with truth that she was indifferent, nor turn angry scorn into a

of the talk. Yes, her father was a bore, especially when he was treated as one; and, baffled by an unfamiliar atmosphere, conscious of the presence of new standards, he became flushed, foolish, sententious. In her feeling for her father was the maternal, pr

e anger that repulsed them all felt itself helpless, unjust, before his intently smiling eye that, seeing through her evasions, said, "I understand everything. Command me, you charming fr

e at lunch she tried to talk about roses with Mr. Jones, and to hear h

other's vehemence, and watched him with an air of cheerful immovability. Gl

ray of light, strong, gay, sustaining. He was, indeed

metaphors-metaphors accepted literally by the masses. We have science tottering to a ruinous alliance with metaphysics. We have a church engaged in a dignified tug of war over a candlestick-the rival camps spattering one another with mud or holy water!" His audience was silent and Mr. Merrick, pushing back

squire was concerned; had better, for tattered remnants of youth

know, one must have conformity to keep things from going to pieces. Godersham gave us

ent on to Felicia, after the patient pause with which he had

will always find material prosperity buttressed by conformity. As for th

r Godersham-the very greatest,

that he believes, putting his own facile interpretation on the word, in the Thirty-nine Articles, who receives the benefits that such beliefs confer, while possessing a good

d bowed, frowning a little at the interruption. Lady Angela, leaning her brow on her hand, was smiling a wan smile of weariness and softest disdain. Mrs. Merrick looked he

to any creed that insured comfort. And she did not care whether it were true or not. He was alone, and they were all against him. In the pause, awkward and hostile, that followed his tirade, she said, clearly, with a light defiance, tossing the words at all of them. "Hear! hear! papa." She flung into the emptiness a flaming little banner of revolt. Geoffrey looked swiftly fr

my helmet. But really, you know, Mr. Merrick-" his smile, graceful, healing, turned from the almost ardour with which

banner, rather than his own bomb-shells, attracting the general attention. Turning his shoulder upon the trivial crew, he

a very foolish thing, Fel

infidel; she's only a l

est culture as represented by Lady Angela req

ngela, that the Church w

t to me mere disbelief, especially when founded on egotistic self-assertion, is more repellent, since more crude and embitte

elt; yet as she sat silent now, and not looking at Angela, she knew

rose, and Lady Angela, her hand on her shoulder, walked besi

up a book, she read, intently, clearly con

lone. Felicia read on. Suddenly, laying down her pen, smiling, Angela turned to her. "You were more a loyalist than an

ll kept the look of steely steadiness. "I am sorry that any one should think my fa

k intelligence, might savour of meanness-a stroke under cover of darkness; and Felicia must not suspect her of stooping to any con

Miss Merrick?" There was a

me as more?"

nt you as a gr

the desk, smiling, Geoffrey and Maurice came in. The moment could not have been more propitious; her loveliness of attitude and look must, she felt, contrast most advant

splendid she was," she said;

alone." With this, picking up her hat, she went to a mirror and deliberately tied it on, feeling a full composure over her hurry of angry thoughts. She did not care how uncouth she seemed. Angela should not force her to seeming trust when she

me too?"

going fo

at her departure with him had been a triumph, made her feel as if she had. She did not like the triumph, and walking silently over the lawn, Maurice beside her, she regretted the command. It implied a great deal; it ac

as they went through the shrubberies into the garden, for Felicia, forgetting the intention of her departure, did not speak of a long

upon them, "to-day you are not a bit a Watteau, but a Romney? The shade your hat makes across your brows and

ide her. "Now do you consider such a remark impertinent?" Maurice demanded. "You frighten me, you know. I feel in y

ed that," said Felicia, biting into her pear; "I suppose I hardly know h

t I am incapable of blaring befor

I have known yo

you do

ou consider your compliments to her blaring?" Felicia, over

in me you must be, and I a

Felicia

e doesn't know herself; that inner blindness blurs all one's outer vision, you know. I am fond of her, really fond of her-she is, on the whole,

ody. When she came in after the subsequent talk, glancing and desultory as it had superficially seemed, her perturbation was of a new order. It was as if he had walked in upon her own particular garden-finding, during her

er will did not seem to count. It was such a new thing for her to talk about herself with somebody, her instinct was to hide behind her hedges; but Maurice found

ntally, his meaning chimed with hers. His meaning seemed all in his smile, his understanding; and his shaft of real light, strong and sunny, made ideals pale, ineffectual. Life itself was hurrying her on and there was no time to pause, to analyze, to weigh her heart. She only surely knew that she w

for her made of all lif