“Yes, I should very much like to know.” As the doctor gave John Smith the flower, he seized the moment for the closest possible scrutiny of the man before him. Not a detail was lost of the extraordinarily sensitive face, with its gaunt but beautiful lines, the luminous eyes, whose pupils were distended to an abnormal width, the look of fastidious cleanliness, which the poor clothes and the rough boots seemed to accentuate. “It is a kind of wild orchis,” said the young man in a gentle tone, which to the doctor’s ear had a rather curious sound. “It is not common hereabouts, but you will find a few in Mr. Whymper’s copse over at Grayfield.” “You seem well up in the subject of flowers,” said Dr. Parker. “I study them,” said the young man with a quick intensity which caused the doctor to purse his lips. “I love them so.” He pressed the slender, tiny petals to his lips. “What a wonderful, wonderful thing is that little flower! I weep when I look at it.” Involuntarily the doctor and the vicar looked at the young man’s face. His eyes had filled with tears. “Why do you let a harmless little flower affect you in that way?” said Dr. Parker. “I suppose it’s the joy I feel in its beauty. I love it, I love it!” And he gave back the little flower to the doctor with a kind of rapture. “Do you feel like that about everything?” “Oh, yes. I worship the Father in all created things.” The too-sensitive face changed suddenly. A light broke over it. “I am intoxicated with the wonders around me, I am enchanted with the glories of the things I see.” “It certainly is a very wonderful world that we live in,” said the vicar, who sometimes fell unconsciously into his pulpit voice. “Think of the continents of divine energy in the very air we breathe.” There was a hush of awe in the voice of John Smith. “Think of the miracles happening under that tiny leaf.” “They are not visible to me.” Dr. Parker impressively removed his gold-rimmed eyeglasses and rubbed them slowly on a red silk handkerchief. The young man drew aside a frond of bracken, and disclosed a colony of black ants. “Does the sight of that move you also?” said Dr. Parker. “They are part of the mystery. I see the Father there.” “I presume you mean God?” said the vicar. “Male and female created He them,” said the young man in a hushed tone. “I hardly dare look at the wonders around me, now the scales have fallen from my eyes and the heavens have opened.” “The heavens have opened!” said Dr. Parker. “Oh, yes. I can read them now. I gaze upon the portals. I see the chariots. There are the strong souls of the saints riding in glory across the sky. Look! look!” The doctor and the vicar followed the lines of the young man’s hand, which pointed straight into a brilliant, but storm-shot sun. They had instantly to lower their eyes. “It would blind one to look at that,” said Dr. Parker.