"Jesus saith unto him, I am the way and the truth and the life; no man cometh unto the Father but by me." "Follow that path," she said, simply. "The door has never been opened to you, because you have never knocked. You have no personal knowledge of Christ, because you have never sought for it. He has never revealed himself to you, because you have never asked him to do so." He turned to her impatiently. "Could you honestly pray to Confucius?" he asked; "or Isaiah, or Elijah, or John the Baptist? This Jewish teacher is no more to me than any other man who has taught and died. How can I pray to him, then?" Bethany fingered the leaves of her little Testament, her heart fluttering nervously. "I wish you would take this and read it," she said. "It would answer you far better than I can." "I have read it," he replied, "a number of years ago. I could see nothing in it." "O, but you read it simply as a critic," she answered. "See!" she cried eagerly, turning the leaves to find another place she had marked. "Paul wrote this about the children of Israel: 'Their minds were blinded: for until this day remaineth the same veil' (the one told about in Exodus, you know) 'untaken away, in the reading of the Old Testament; which veil is done away in Christ. But even unto this day, when Moses is read, the veil is upon their heart. Nevertheless, when it shall turn to the Lord, the veil shall be taken away.'" "Where does it say that?" he asked, incredulously. He took the book, and turning back to the first of the chapter, commenced to read. The great bell in the court-house tower began clanging six. "I must go," he said; "but I'll take this with me and look through it another time." "I wish you would come to the watch-meeting to-night," she said, wistfully. "It is from ten until midnight. All the Leagues in the city meet at Garrison Avenue." He slipped the book in his pocket, and buttoned up his overcoat. A sudden reserve of manner seemed to envelop him at the same time. "No, thank you," he answered, drawing on his gloves. "I have an informal invitation from some friends in Hillhollow to dance the old year out and the new year in." His tone seemed so flippant after the recent depth of feeling he had betrayed, that it jarred on Bethany's earnest mood like a discord. He moved toward the door. "No matter where you may be," she said as he opened it, "I shall be praying for you." After he had gone, Bethany still sat at her desk, mechanically assorting the letters. She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she had quite forgotten it was time to go home. The door opened, and Frank Marion came in. He was followed by Cragmore, who was going home with him to dinner. "All alone?" asked Mr. Marion in surprise. "Where's David? We dropped in to invite him around to the watch-meeting to-night."