"I know nothing of God," he responded, "save as I see power manifested in the physical world. I have read the Bible so little. I am not intimately familiar with the life and words of Jesus. Before meeting you, I had always thought of religion with more or less contempt. I confess my ignorance. But I am learning to know _you_. What you are and what you do convince me there is something in your religion I have not found. I am as untaught in spiritual truth as a babe. But now I want to learn." "I am glad you do. Will you study your Bible?" He did not tell her he had no Bible, but he promised to study one. "Will you pray too?" she asked, with a little choke in her voice. "Would you have me read the prayers of the church?" "No; the prayer of your own heart." Then the man became rash. "The prayer of my heart?" he repeated, with evident emotion. "The prayer of my heart? That prayer is that I may win your love, and your hand in marriage. That is my religion; you, I worship." "Don't! Don't!" she said, withdrawing her hand from his arm. "Don't; that seems blasphemous." "If you could only love me, I might begin to comprehend what you tell us of the love of God. I love _you_. That I _know_, I understand. You are the embodiment of all I hold sweet and dear. Can't you love me--sometime?" "I do not know," she responded. "What I _do_ know surely is that I do not love you now. I believe that love of the deep and abiding kind does not fall at man's feet as manna, nor does it grow like a mushroom in a night. It takes time for the mighty, resistless forces of nature to develop a single blade of grass. So love, I take it, must have time to grow." "Then I may hope to win your love?" he said eagerly. "Oh, no; don't think of love. You have my friendship; let us not spoil the friendship by dreaming of a love that I cannot give you." "Do you believe," he asked, "that you will never love any other man?" "I believe if such love ever grows in my heart, I shall walk in glory all my days. It is a sacred thing, and I could never speak of it lightly, as many do." "Good night," he said, "and God bless you." They had reached the Clayton home. The door closed, and Kenneth was alone. He turned; and before him, on the foothills, flamed the burning cross. CHAPTER XIII THE ADOPTION OF A MOTHER Bobbie had become a personality. What is more, he had adopted Esther Bright as his mother, without any formalities of the law. He had found a mother heart, and had taken his place there by the divine right of love. No one seemed to know how it had all come about; all anyone knew, positively, was that Bobbie suddenly began to call his teacher "Mither." At first the children laughed when Bobbie would call her by this new name; then the baby of the school was broken-hearted, until the teacher had mended the break with kisses and tender words.