There was something in the drop this time which--perhaps because of her recent emotion--sounded to her almost as if he were asking the question with the protecting sympathy of the tone one would use in speaking to a child. How dare he! But it came home to her that Jem had once said “What’s the matter?” to her in the same way. “Do you think it likely that I should confide in you?” she said, and inwardly quaked at the memory as she said it. “No,” he answered, considering the matter gravely. “It’s not _likely_--the way things look to you now. But if you knew me better perhaps it would be likely.” “I once explained to you that I do not _intend_ to know you better,” she gave answer. He nodded acquiescently. “Yes. I got on to that. And it’s because it’s up to me that I came out here to tell you something I want you to know before you go away. I’m going to confide in _you_.” “Cannot even _you_ see that I am not in the mood to accept confidences?” she exclaimed. “Yes, I can. But you’re going to accept this one,” steadily. “No,” as she made a swift movement, “I’m not going to clear the way till I’ve done.” “I insist!” she cried. “If you were--” He put out his hand, but not to touch her. “I know what you’re going to say. If I were a gentleman--Well, I’m not laying any claims to anything--but I’m a sort of a man, anyhow, though you mayn’t think it. And you’re going to listen.” (To be continued) [Illustration] RITUAL BY WILLIAM ROSE BENÉT Lord God, what may we think of Thee, Save that in stars we drink of Thee, Save that in the abundance of Thy sunlight we have seen Thine excellent intention; And Thy marvelous invention In great and little living things and all the grades between? Lord God, what may we say to Thee Who know our hearts give way to Thee Surely at last in secret depths, though protest long denies, And that to live is wonder With worlds above and under Unreached of any mortal heart, blurred to all mortal eyes? Lord God, the fitting praise to Thee Rather would seem to raise to Thee Only pure honesty of mind, waiting Thy stalwart will; Like as the hills believe Thee, Like as the seas receive Thee, Like as the trees whose rustlings cease,--who hear Thee and are still! [Illustration: TOPICS OF THE TIME] THE SPIRIT OF THE CENTURY “The magazine needs no other aim than to be worthy of the name it bears.”