The answering look he gave her indicated that she puzzled him. She had not seemed to-day like the shallow girl who had hitherto accepted of his more innocent compliments as if they were sugar-plums, and merely raised her finger in mock warning at such as contained a spice of wickedness and boldness. There seemed a current of thought in her mind which he could not fathom, and whether it were carrying her away or toward him he was not sure. He understood and welcomed the element of recklessness, but did not like the way in which she looked at Van Berg, nor did it suit his purposes that she should hear so much of what he characterized as "pious twaddle." He whispered again bolder words than he had ever spoken to her before. "I wish no better heaven than the touch of your hand and the light of your eyes. See, the moon is rising; come with me, for this is the very witching hour for a ramble." She turned upon him a startled look, for he seemed the very embodiment of temptation. But she only said coldly: "Hush! Mr. Van Berg is about to sing," and she stepped so far into the lighted room that the artist saw her. When Miss Burton rose from the piano she did not return to her seat in the parlor, but stood in the shadow of the door-way leading into the hall. The thought of her hymn had come so directly from her heart, that her eyes were slightly moist with an emotion that was more plainly manifest on many other faces. The old gentleman who had asked her to sing had taken off his spectacles and was openly wiping his eyes. Stanton, ashamed to have her see the feeling she had evoked, turned his back upon her and slowly walked down the corridor. She misunderstood his act and thought it caused by indifference or dislike for the sentiment she had expressed. He had seemed to her thus far only a superficial man of the world, and this act struck her as characteristic. But beyond this passing impression she did not give him a thought, and turned, with genuine interest, to listen to Van Berg who had said to her: "I remember a few simple verses which have no merit save that they express what I wish rather than what I am." With much more feeling, and therefore power, than was his custom, he sang as follows: "I would I knew Thee better-- That trust could banish doubt; I wish that from 'the letter' Thy Spirit might shine out. I wish that heaven were nearer-- That earth were more akin To the home that should be dearer Than the one so marred by sin. I wish that deserts dreary Might blossom as the rose, That souls, despairing, weary, Might smile and find repose."