That which the frost can freeze, That which is burned of the fire, Cast it down, it is nothing worth In the ways of the Heart’s Desire. Foot or hand that offends, Eye that shrinks from the goal, Cast them forth, they are nothing worth, And fare with the naked soul. Mary did not tell Edward about the scene with David Blake. “You know, Liz, he behaved shamefully, but I don’t want there to be a quarrel with Edward, and it would be sure to make a quarrel. And then people would talk, and there’s no knowing what they would say. I think it would be perfectly dreadful to be talked about. I’m sure I can’t think how Katie Ellerton can stand it. Really, every one is talking about her.” In her heart of hearts Mary was a little flattered at David’s last outburst. She would not for the world have admitted that this was the case, but it certainly contributed to her resolution not to tell Edward. “I suppose some people would never forgive him,” she said to Elizabeth, “but I don’t think that’s right, do you? I don’t think it’s at all Christian. I don’t think one ought to be hard. He might do something desperate. I saw him go into Katie Ellerton’s only this morning. I think I’ll write him a little note, not referring to anything of course, and ask him if he won’t come in to supper on Sundays. Then he’ll see that I mean to forgive him, and there won’t be any more fuss.” Sunday appeared to be quite a suitable day upon which to resume the rôle of guardian angel. Mary felt a pleasant glow of virtue as she wrote her little note and sent it off to David. David Blake did not accept either the invitation or the olive branch. His anger against Mary was still stronger than his craving for her presence. He wrote a polite excuse and sat all that evening with his eyes fixed upon a book, which he made no pretence of reading. He had more devils than one to contend with just now. David had a strong will, and he was putting the whole strength of it into fighting the other craving, the craving for drink. In his sudden heat of passion he had taken an oath that he meant to keep. He had been drunk, and Mary had laughed at him. Neither Mary nor any one else should have that cause for mocking laughter again, and he sat nightly with a decanter at his elbow. “And,” as Mrs. Havergill remarked, “never touching a mortal drop,” because if he was to down the devil at all he meant to down him in a set battle, and not to spend his days in ignominious flight. Mrs. Havergill prognosticated woe to Sarah, with a mournful zest.