"I give you those nights of prayer," said Mr Raymond. "But I think you must yield me the miracles. Unquestionably it must have given Him pleasure to relieve pain; but see how much pain to Himself was often mixed in it!--`Looking up to Heaven, He sighed' ere He did one; He wept, just before performing another; He cried, `How long shall I be with you, and suffer you!' ere he worked a third. No, Miss Courtenay, the miracles of our Divine Master were not all pleasure to Himself. Indeed, I should be inclined to venture further, and ask if we have no hint that they were wrought at a considerable cost to Himself. He `took our infirmities, and bare our sicknesses'; He knew when `virtue had gone out of Him.' That may mean only that His Divine knowledge was conscious of it; but taking both passages together, is it not possible that His wonderful works were wrought at personal expense--that His human body suffered weakness, faintness, perhaps acute pain, as the natural consequence of doing them? You will understand that I merely throw out the hint. Scripture does not speak decisively; and where God does not decide, it is well for men to be cautious." "Mr Raymond," I exclaimed, "how can you be a Whig?" "Pardon me, but what is the connection?" asked he, looking both astonished and diverted. "Don't you see it? You are much too good for one." Mr Raymond laughed. "Thank you; I fear I did not detect the compliment. May I put the counter question, and ask how you came to be a Tory?" "Why, I was born so," said I. "And so was I a Whig," replied he. "Excuse me!" came laughingly from my other hand, in Miss Newton's voice. "The waters are not quite so smooth as they were, and I thought I had better be at hand to pour a little oil if necessary. Mr Raymond, I am afraid you are getting worldly. Is that not the proper word?" "It is the proper word for an improper thing," said Mr Raymond. "On what evidence do you rest your accusation, Miss Theresa?" "On the fact that you have twice in one week made your appearance in Mrs Desborough's rooms, which are the very pink of worldliness." "Have I come without reason?" "You have not given it me," said the young lady, laughing. "You cannot always come to tell one of the guests that his (or her) relations have been taken prisoner." I looked up so suddenly that Mr Raymond answered my eyes before he replied to Miss Newton's words. "No, Miss Courtenay, I did not come with ill news. I suppose a man may have two reasons at different times for the same action?" "Where is our handsome friend of the dreadful name?" asked Miss Newton. "Mr Hebblethwaite? He told me he could not be here this evening." "That man will have to change his name before anybody will marry him," said Miss Newton. "Then, if he takes my advice, he will continue in single blessedness," was Mr Raymond's answer. "Now, why?" "Do you not think it would be preferable to marrying a woman whose regard for you was limited by the alphabet?"