It was Sissy's turn to hesitate, and she compressed her pretty lips doubtfully. Being in the Old Testament, Jael must of course come out all right, even if one finds it difficult to like her. Judith's position, is less clear. Still, it is a great thing to be in the Apocrypha, and then living so long ago and so far away makes a difference. But Charlotte Corday--a young Frenchwoman, not a century dead, who murdered a man, and was guillotined in those horrible revolutionary times,--would Percival say _that_ was the type of woman he liked? "Well--Charlotte Corday, then?" "Yes, I admire her," he said slowly. "Though I would rather the heroism did not show itself in bloodshed. Still, she was noble: I honor her. I dare say the others were too, but I don't know so much about them." "What a poor little thing you must think me!" said Sissy. "I could never do anything heroic." "Why not?" "I should be frightened. I can't bear people to be angry with me. I should run away, or do something silly." "Then I hope you won't be tried," said Percival. She shook her pretty head: "People always talk about casting gold into the furnace, and it's coming out only the brighter and better. Things are not good for much if you would rather they were not tried." Her hand was on the window-frame as she spoke, and the young man touched a ring she wore: "Gold is tried in the furnace--yes, but not your pearls. Besides, I'm not so sure that you would fail if you were put to the test." She smiled, well pleased, yet unconvinced. "You think," he went on, "that people who did great deeds did them without an effort--were always ready, like a bow always strung? No, no, Sissy: they felt very weak sometimes. Isn't there anything in the world you think you could die for? Even if you say 'No' now, there may be something one of these days." The twilight hid the soft glow which overspread her face. "Anything in the world you could die for?" Anything? Anybody? Her blood flowed in a strong, courageous current as her heart made answer, "Yes--for one." But she did not speak, and after a moment her companion changed the subject. "That's a pretty ring," he said. Sissy started from her reverie: "Horace gave it me. Adieu, Mr. Percival Thorne: I'm going to look at my roses." "Thank you. Yes, I shall be delighted to come." And Percival jumped out. "Don't look at me as if I'd said something foolish. Isn't that the right way to answer your kind invitation?" "Invitation! What next?" demanded Sissy with pretty scorn. And the pair went off together along the terrace and into the fragrant dusk. A minute later it occurred to Mrs. Middleton to fear that Sissy might take cold, and she went to the window to look after her. But, as no one was to be seen, she turned away and encountered her brother, who had been watching them too. "Do they care for each other?" he asked abruptly.