“Yes. What a beastly night. That moon looks as sickly as the baby.” “It is a glorious night.” Virginius spoke for the first time. “You there, Virginius? I had not seen you.” “Yes, Genius, I am here,” he answered slowly, but his face was turned toward the mountains. “Virginius is always there,” continued the dark spirit. “But tell us how you come to be here. I saw the star, but scarcely reckoned it was yours.” “Well, the story is long and uninteresting. But to be brief and enclose much in a nutshell, I have come to remove a curse.” “Pooh! An impossibility. Bah! An idle dream.” “That is exactly my own opinion. I am no good at removing curses. Besides, the family is particularly unlucky.” “Indeed!” “Yes. It has a descent, I am told, from the coming of the first Pretender, and is part Scotch, part Irish, and part English.” “And in what does its ill-luck consist?” Plucritus had changed his position. He was leaning forward, apparently examining and playing with his ring. “A few uninteresting sins, I believe. Debts contracted by ancestors descended upon children. You know it, the Catechism explains it.” “Heigh! Virginius! what is it?” And Plucritus threw back his head, laughing indolently. But as he received no answer he quoted it himself:— “‘For I the Lord thy God am a jealous God, and visit the sins of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate Me, and shew mercy unto thousands in them that love Me and keep My commandments.’” “What profanity!” said Genius, idly. “Do you know, Plucritus, I have been often struck by your astounding knowledge of Scripture?” And Plucritus, looking up, met the eyes of Virginius. It was but the glance of an instant, but even the moonshine paled beneath the gleam of steel against steel, flash for flash, quivering in the frosty light. “I have to keep myself in touch with mankind,” he answered lightly. “And that latter half of the second Commandment has always appealed to me. But continue your story. I am interested. Tell me of this ill-luck.” “There is really nothing to tell. The usual debts, you know, contracted by those who willingly lend themselves to the devil. Gambling, drinking, adultery, self-indulgence, self-centring. All these things, when practised by successive generations, bring their accompaniments of mental or physical weakness, sometimes both.” “And in all cases moral decay,” remarked Plucritus, thoughtfully. “In all cases,” said Genius. “And so what you call ill-luck is simply just punishment,” Plucritus continued. “Maybe,” said Genius, carelessly, “maybe not. I do not concern myself much about it. I am neither philosopher nor philanthropist, and I can assure you I take this task upon me grudgingly. I have no wish to become guardian angel to little girls.”