"It is God who is responsible for my finite reason, not I," said Mona; and then the thought of where this conversation must lead, and the uselessness of it, overwhelmed her. Her voice softened. "Mr Stuart," she said, "it is very kind of you to care what I think and believe--to-night, too, of all times, when you must be so tired after that 'function.' I believe it is a help to some people to talk, but I don't think it is even right for me--at least at present. When I begin to formulate things, I seem to lose the substance in the shadow; I get interested in the argument for the argument's sake. Believe me, I am not living a thoughtless life." Mr Stuart was impressed by her earnestness in spite of himself. "But, my dear young lady, is it wise, is it safe, to leave things so vague, to have nothing definite to lean upon?" "I think so; if one tries to do right." "It is all very well while you are young, and life seems long; but trouble will come, and sickness, and death----" Rachel and Dudley had reached the gate of Carlton Lodge, and were waiting for the other two. But Mr Stuart did not think it necessary to break off, or even to lower his voice. "----and when the hour of your need comes, and you can no longer grapple with great thoughts, will you not long for a definite word, a text----?" Dudley's face was a picture. Mona underwent a quick revulsion of feeling. How dared any one speak to her publicly like that! She answered lightly, however, too lightly-- "'Denn, was man schwarz auf weiss besitzt, Kann man getrost nach Hause tragen'"! Of course she knew that Dr Dudley alone would understand, and of course Dudley keenly appreciated the apt quotation. "Holloa, Stuart!" he said, "you seem to be figuring in a new and alarming _rôle_. I am half afraid to go in with you. I wish you could come and join in our discussion, Miss Maclean. 'Nineteenth Century Heretics' is our topic. Stuart takes the liberal side, I the conservative." "Do you think it expedient," said the minister reproachfully, as the two men crunched the gravel of the carriage-drive beneath their feet, "to talk in that flippant way to women on deep subjects?" "Oh, Miss Maclean is all right! She could knock you and me into a cocked-hat any day." And he believed what he said--at least so far as the minister was concerned. "She really is very intelligent," admitted Mr Stuart. "I quite miss her face when she is not at church on Sunday morning; but you know she does put herself forward a little. What made her go out after that fainting girl, when so many older women were present? Oh, I forgot, you had not arrived----"