As Ranald left the Raymond house he knew well what he should say to Mr. St. Clair next morning. He wondered at himself that he had ever been in doubt. He had been for an hour in another world where the atmosphere was pure and the light clear. Never till that night had he realized the full value of that life of patient self-sacrifice, so unconscious of its heroism. He understood then, as never before, the mysterious influence of that gentle, sweet-faced lady over every one who came to know her, from the simple, uncultured girls of the Indian Lands to the young men about town of Harry's type. Hers was the power of one who sees with open eyes the unseen, and who loves to the forgetting of self those for whom the Infinite love poured Itself out in death. “Going home, Harry?” inquired Ranald. “Yes, right home; don't want to go anywhere else to-night. I say, old chap, you're a better and cleaner man than I am, but it ain't your fault. That woman ought to make a saint out of any man.” “Man, you would say so if you knew her,” said Ranald, with a touch of impatience; “but then no one does know her. They certainly don't down in the Indian Lands, for they don't know what she's given up.” “That's the beauty of it,” replied Harry; “she doesn't feel it that way. Given up? not she! She thinks she's got everything that's good!” “Well,” said Ranald, thoughtfully, after a pause, “she knows, and she's right.” When they came to Harry's door Ranald lingered just a moment. “Come in a minute,” said Harry. “I don't know; I'm coming in to-morrow.” “Oh, come along just now. Aunt Frank is in bed, but Maimie will be up,” said Harry, dragging him along to the door. “No, I think not to-night.” While they were talking the door opened and Maimie appeared. “Ranald,” she cried, in an eager voice, “I knew you would be at Kate's, and I was pretty sure you would come home with Harry. Aren't you coming in?” “Where's Aunt Frank?” asked Harry. “She's upstairs,” said Maimie. “Thank the Lord, eh?” added Harry, pushing in past her. “Go away in and talk to her,” said Maimie. Then turning to Ranald and looking into his devouring eyes, she said, “Well? You might say you're glad to see me.” She stood where the full light of the doorway revealed the perfect beauty of her face and figure. “Glad to see you! There is no need of saying that,” replied Ranald, still gazing at her. “How beautiful you are, Maimie,” he added, bluntly. “Thank you, and you are really quite passable.” “And I AM glad to see you.” “That's why you won't come in.” “I am coming to-morrow night.” “Everybody will be here to-morrow night.” “Yes, that's certainly a drawback.” “And I shall be very busy looking after my guests. Still,” she added, noticing the disappointment in his face, “it's quite possible--” “Exactly,” his face lighting up again. “Have you seen father's study?” asked Maimie, innocently. “No,” replied Ranald, wonderingly. “Is it so beautiful?” “No, but it's upstairs, and--quiet.”