"It does not matter," said Anne, closing the book, but keeping one slender finger in the place. "What is your book called?" "'Inasmuch.'" "Who wrote it?" "Hester Gresley." "I think I've heard of her," said Janet cautiously. "Mrs Smith, our Rector's wife, says that Mr Smith does not approve of her books; they have such a low tone. I think Fred read one of them on a visit once. I haven't time myself for much reading." Silence. "I should like," said Janet, turning her clear, wide gaze upon Anne, "I should like to read the books you read, and know the things you know. I should like to--to be like you." A delicate colour came into Anne's face, and she looked down embarrassed at the volume in her hand. "Would you read me a little bit?" said Janet. "Not beginning at the beginning, but just going on where you left off." "I am afraid you might not care for it any more than Mr Smith does." "Oh! I'm not deeply read like Mr Smith. Is it poetry?" "No." "I'm glad it isn't poetry. Is it about love?" "Yes." "I used not to care to read about love, but now I think I should like it very much." A swift emotion passed over Anne's face. She took up the book, and slowly opened it. Janet looked with admiration at her slender hands. "I wish mine were white like hers," she thought, as she looked at her own far more beautiful but slightly tanned hands, folded together in her lap in an attitude of attention. Anne hesitated a moment, and then began to read: * * * * * "I had journeyed some way in life, I was travel-stained and weary, when I met Love. In the empty, glaring highway I met him, and we walked in it together. I had not thought he fared in such steep places, having heard he was a dweller in the sheltered gardens, which were not for me. Nevertheless he went with me. I never stopped for him, or turned aside out of my path to seek him, for I had met his counterfeit when I was young, and I distrusted strangers afterwards. And I prayed to God to turn my heart wholly to Himself, and to send Love away, lest he should come between me and Him. But when did God hearken to any prayer of mine? "And Love was grave and stern. And as we walked he showed me the dew upon the grass, and the fire in the dew, the things I had seen all my life and had never understood. And he drew the rainbow through his hand. I was one with the snowdrop and with the thunderstorm. And we went together upon the sea, swiftly up its hurrying mountains, swiftly down into its rushing valleys. And I was one with the sea. And all fear ceased out of my life, and a great awe dwelt with me instead. And Love wore a human face. But I knew that was for a moment only. Did not Christ the same? "And Love showed me the hearts of my brothers in the crowd. And, last of all, he showed me myself, with whom I had lived in ignorance. And I was humbled.