"The wood here is full of wonders. The tiniest mushroom is as extraordinary and as worthy of study as the largest oak. Your father was fond of plants and animals." "Yes, I can remember that," said Kate, her face growing sad as her mind travelled back to years gone by. What would that same father have thought, she wondered, had he known how this man opposite to her had treated her! What did it matter now, though, when she would so soon be out of his power! "I remember," said Girdlestone, stirring his tea thoughtfully, "when we lived in the City as 'prentice lads together, we shared a room above the shop. He used to have a dormouse that he was very fond of. All his leisure time was spent in nursing the creature and cleaning its cage. It seemed to be his only pleasure in life. One night it was running across the floor, and I put my foot upon it." "Oh, poor papa!" cried Kate. "I did it upon principle. 'You have devoted too much time to the creature,' I said. 'Raise up your thoughts higher!' He was grieved and angry, but in time he came to thank me. It was a useful lesson." Kate was so startled by this anecdote that she remained silent for some little time. "How old were you then?" she asked at last. "I was about sixteen." "Then you were always--inclined that way?" She found some difficulty in conveying her meaning in polite tones. "Yes; I received a call when I was very young. I became one of the elect at an early age." "And which are the elect?" his ward asked demurely. "The members of the Community of the Primitive Trinitarians--or, at least those of them who frequent Purbrook Street Chapel. I hold that the ministers in the other chapels that I have attended do not preach the unadulterated Word, and have therefore missed the narrow path." "Then," said Kate, "you think that no one will be saved except those who frequent the Purbrook Street Chapel?" "And not all of them--no, nor one in ten," the merchant said confidently, and with some approach to satisfaction. "Heaven must be a very small place," Kate remarked, as she rose from the table. "Are you going out?" "I was thinking of having a stroll in the wood." "Think over a text as you walk. It is an excellent commencement of the day." "What text should I think of?" she asked, standing smiling in the doorway, with the bright sunshine bursting in behind her. "'In the midst of life we are in death,'" he said solemnly. His voice was so hollow and stern that it struck a chill into the girl's heart. The effect was only momentary, however. The day was so fine, and the breeze so fresh, that sadness was out of the question. Besides, was not her deliverance at hand! On this of all mornings she should be free from vague presentiments and dim forebodings. The change in her guardian's manner was an additional cause for cheerfulness. She almost persuaded herself that she had misconstrued his words and his intentions upon the preceding day.