A curious prayer; but perhaps better than no prayer at all. For herein lies the world’s hope, that every man—the blackest sinner amongst us—is on his own extraordinary terms with the Unseen. Were we as grossly material as appears, we were lost indeed. Meadowes’ faith truly was reduced to the minimum, and yet, and yet—to Something he made confession, assured only of this, that if any Presence listened it must be with pity. He rose from his knees and went out again into the crowded streets, filled not with any sudden resolutions of repentance, but with the determination to persist in the course he had originally planned out. He even felt a certain relief of conscience. ‘_I have explained it with God_,’ he found himself saying, adding a moment later, ‘If there be such an One.’ Then his thoughts seemed to fall into question and answer: ‘And doth that make all straight?’ ‘_Straighter: for I have said that such punishment as I deserve for this, I shall take._’ ‘Did you mean what you prayed?’ ‘_If there are punishments in truth._’ ‘Do you think there are?’ ‘_No: I doubt it._’ ‘Then you will have your pleasure without risk?’ ‘_I hope for it._’ But conscience had after all the last word, for it spoke suddenly and loudly then:— ‘_No, no; “a sword shall pierce thine own heart also.”_’ CHAPTER IV Till a few years ago the cottage was still standing where Anne Champion went to live at the bounty of Richard Meadowes. It stood on one of the crossways leading off the great west London road; but few people passed down the green lane, few even looked that way. The cottage was one of those deep thatched old dwellings that look like an owl with its feathers drawn up over its head; it had a garden filled with flowers and bee-hives, and the straight walk leading up to the door was bordered with flowering shrubs. Anne worked in the garden, clumsily enough at first, and she looked after the bees and got stung frequently, and time went on. Each week the old woman, Martha Hare, who occupied the house along with her, received a certain sum of money to be divided between herself and Anne; but Meadowes only came occasionally to the cottage at first: he was very cautious, having weighed Anne’s character pretty accurately. Then his visits became more frequent, and were somewhat prolonged, then he brought Anne a present from town. Anne began to draw her usual conclusions from these things: ‘He’s a-making up to me,’ she said to Martha Hare. But she was scarcely prepared for it when Meadowes suddenly asked her one day if she would marry him. ‘I have been thinking of it for long, Anne,’ he said. ‘Sir, sir!’ said vulgar Anne. ‘I’m not your kind.’