"Remember, sir, that humanity was not moulded entirely from one stratum of pipe-clay. Only a few wear paint, enamelling, and gold as delicate costly Sevres; and, while the majority are only coarse pottery, it is scarcely kind--certainly not generous--in dainty, transparent china, belonging to king's palaces, to pity or denounce the humble Delft or Wedgewoodware doing duty in laborer's cottages." "Very true, my poor little warped, blotched bit of perverse pottery; but of one vital truth permit me to assure you: the purity and elevation of our race depend upon preserving inviolate in the hearts of men a belief that women's natures are crystalline as that celebrated glass once made at Murano, which was so exceedingly fine and delicate that it burst into fragments if poison was poured into it." "Then, obviously, I am no Venetian goblet; else long ago I should have shattered under the bitter, black juices poured by fate. It seems I am not worthy to touch the lips of doges and grand dukes; but let them look to it that some day, when spent and thirsty, they stretch not their regal hands for the common clay that holds what all their costly, dainty fragments can never yield. _Nous verrons!_ 'The stone which the builders rejected has become the head of the corner.'" Dr. Grey had resumed his walk, but the half-suppressed, passionate protest, whose underswell began to agitate her voice, arrested his attention, and he came to the table and stood close to the orphan. "What is the matter with my headstrong young friend?" She made no answer; but her elfish eyes sought his, and braved their quiet rebuke. "This is the last opportunity I shall offer you to tell me frankly what troubles you. Can I help you in any way? If so, command me." "Once you could have helped me, but that time has passed." "Perhaps not. Try me." "It is too late. You have lost faith in me." "No; you have lost all faith in yourself, if you ever indulged any,--which I very much doubt. It is you who are faithless concerning your own defective character." "Not I, indeed! I know it rather too well, either to set it aloft for adoration or to trample it in the mire. When your faith in me expired, mine was born. Do you recollect that beautiful painted window in Lincoln Cathedral which the untutored fingers of an apprentice fashioned out of the despised bits of glass rejected by the fastidious master-builder? It is so vastly superior to every other in the church that the vanquished artist could not survive the chagrin and mortification, and killed himself. My faith is very strong, that, please God, I shall some day show you similar handiwork." "You grow enigmatical, and I do not fully understand you." "No; you do not in the least comprehend me. The girl whom you left six months ago has changed in many respects." "For better, or for worse?" "Perhaps neither one nor yet the other; but, at least, sir, 'my future will not copy fair my past.'"