Madame remembering her last encounter with Olive, seemed to recall very little that was either childlike or plastic in the concluding portion of their conversation, but she did not say so to Ezra who went on talking. “She often, however, puzzles me, she has such sudden freaks and fancies, as if her heart was a wild creature not fully tamed and ever dashing against the bars of its environment. I sometimes feel that I have not the necessary wisdom or tact to guide and counsel her. She seems to need someone who is wiser and more skilful than I am. Sometimes I fear she does not quite realise the responsibilities of life. The problems which have come up before us and which cry aloud for solution, seem to her but trivial matters that may be trusted to settle themselves. We must endeavour, dear friend, to arouse Olive’s enthusiasm about Perfection City. She is capable of the highest and noblest aspirations, but her heart must be turned into the right direction. She evinces a certain hesitancy in throwing herself into our work and aims.” “Perhaps she is opposed to the whole thing,” suggested Madame. “That cannot be,” replied Ezra earnestly. “She must see as we do, when she comes thoroughly to understand our motives in founding Perfection City. I look to you, Madame, to open her eyes to the truth.” “Ah!” said Madame laconically, and then she added, after a moment’s pause, “I will ask you to do one thing for me.” “Anything you ask I will do if it is in my power,” said Ezra. “Do not tell Olive of your fall here, nor of the danger you were in, nor of my coming to find you.” After a moment of puzzled silence Ezra said, “Of course your wishes are to me law. But may I ask why you make such a request?” “Perhaps I am judging wrongly, but I am acting as if Olive had the same feelings as I should have. If I were in her place, I should hate it.” “Why?” asked Ezra in surprise. Madame rose up, her pale face illumined by the light of the fire. “If I loved a man,” she said, beginning very quietly, but her voice gathered in intensity as she spoke. “If I loved a man, I could not bear it. To think that my love had failed him in his sorest need. He was lying stunned, helpless, within the clutch of deadly peril, and I went home unwarned, leaving him to his fate, all unconscious of the whole thing, while another woman—not I, but another woman—went to his rescue, another woman—not I—found him, saved him, drew him out of danger, while I walked heedlessly home. I should hate myself, I should hate—ah! I should hate to the verge of killing that other woman who had saved him. That is the way I should feel, if I loved.” She concluded hastily, her voice dropping to a whisper. Ezra looked up at her in amazement. “Yours is a many-sided nature. I never suspected you could feel like that. I never thought of you as being—as capable of——” he stopped in confusion.