"Perhaps," she said sceptically; "but many things goody-goody people of your sort shudder at are attractive. You can't deny that." "I have no wish to. Satan always supplies us with rose-coloured spectacles, through which to contemplate his works." Lady Jim rose and walked up and down the narrow limits of the room, twisting her hands in a nervous, hesitating way, quite unlike her usually calm, decisive self. "I wish you would not talk nonsense," she snapped; "it is absurd to believe in a personal devil." "And in a possible hell also, I suppose you would say." "Oh," she said carelessly, "scientists have explained that away." "And the Inquisition of the middle ages denied that the earth went round the sun," said Kaimes, grimly; "but I understand that it does." "Clever, but not convincing. What is the use of talking nursery theology and cheap science to me? What can you say that is likely to do me good?" "The patient must be frank with his physician," hinted Lionel. "Oh, we always tell the exact truth to doctor and lawyer," said Lady Jim, scornfully, "because we fear for our bodies and our property. But who tells the truth to a parson?" "Those who are convinced of sin." "In that case I may as well hold my tongue. I am not convinced of anything, not even if I ought to make you my father confessor." "I cannot compel your confidence. On the other hand, I cannot help you unless----" "Unless! Quite so. Let me think," and turning her back on him, she went to the window. The early winter gloom was blotting out the distant landscape, but near at hand the spectral glare of the snow revealed blackly the figures of homeward-bound skaters. The cold deadness of so sinister a world did not tend to soothe Leah's overstrung nerves, and shrouded Nature could give her no counsel. Had it been a summer's twilight of nightingales and roses, of sleeping blossoms and murmuring leaves, she would have recovered sufficient spirit to scoff. But this arctic waste, livid and still in the half light, reminded her of the frozen hell, in the deadly chills of which shuddered Dante, the seer. And the virile Saxon word hinted at the possible, if not at the probable. Of course, it was all very ridiculous, and her system was out of order. Nevertheless, she felt that some kindly human comfort and advice might restore her tormented mind to its usual peace. And whatever she said to Lionel, he would not dare to repeat. As a cousin, as a gentleman, as a priest, his lips would be triply sealed. And he might be able to point out a less dangerous path than that towards which the need of money was driving her. He was a good fellow, too, and honest enough, in spite of his superstition. She decided to speak, and came back to her chair. Had she been less material, she could have heard in the stillness the rustling wings of a returning angel. Lionel looked at her inquiringly. She was about to speak hurriedly, lest the good impulse should pass away, when Jim's tattoo was heard.