The doctor made a quick movement of interest. "Good heavens, Jane!" he said. "You have got hold of a truth there, and you have expressed it exactly as I have often wanted to express it without being able to find the right words. You have found them, Jeanette." She looked into his eager eyes and smiled sadly. "Have I, Boy?" she said. "Well, they have cost me dear.--I put my lover from me and told him I must have twelve hours for calm reflection. He was so sure--so sure of me, so sure of himself--that he agreed without a protest. At my request he left me at once. The manner of his going I cannot tell, even to you, Dicky. I promised to meet him at the village church next day and give him my answer. He was to try the new organ at eleven. We knew we should be alone. I came. He sent away the blower. He called me to him at the chancel step. The setting was so perfect. The artist in him sang for joy, and thrilled with expectation. The glory of absolute certainty was in his eyes; though he had himself well in hand. He kept from touching me while he asked for my answer. Then--I refused him, point blank, giving a reason he could not question. He turned from me and left the church, and I have not spoken to him from that day to this." A long silence in the doctor's consulting-room. One manly heart was entering into the pain of another, and yet striving not to be indignant until he knew the whole truth. Jane's spirit was strung up to the same pitch as in that fateful hour, and once more she thought herself right. At last the doctor spoke. He looked at her searchingly now, and held her eyes. "And why did you refuse him, Jane?" The kind voice was rather stern.