‘Weakness,’ ‘emptiness,’ ‘defeat,’ she said, recalling his words.  ‘Is that what I am to find?’

‘You do not think it possible,’ said Dr. Maryland.

‘How should she, papa?’ said Primrose.

’Well, my dear, it is not possible she should.  And yet, Hazel, these are the only way to find strength, fulness, and victory.  It is a problem to you, my dear; only to be worked out.’

‘Does every one work it out, papa?’

’No, my dear; two thirds of men never do.  And so they go on forever saying, “Who will shew us any good?” ’

‘He did not find defeat,’ said Hazel, looking at the martyr’s face, and somehow forgetting the arrows and the cords.

‘The story is,’ said Dr. Maryland, ’that he was an officer, high in trust and command, in the service of the Emperor (Diocletian.).  For owning himself a Christian, he was stripped of power and place, delivered into the will of his enemies, to be bound to a tree and shot to death with arrows.  There is the human defeat, my dear Hazel.  What you see in the face there, is the mental victory;—­some of the struggle, too.’

’ “Mental victory” ’—­she said half to herself, considering the words.  ’I ought to be equal to that.  Did you mean “defeat,” Dr. Arthur, by “the loss of all things?” ’

‘No,’ said Dr. Arthur, ’I meant anything but that.  I meant nothing worse than the exchange of a handful of soiled paper for both the hands full of solid gold.’

‘Ah you all talk such riddles!’ said the girl, knitting her brows.  ’What would it be to me, I mean?  That I should lose Chickaree?—­but that is impossible.’

‘It was said,’ Dr. Maryland answered,—­’and the Lord said it—­ “Whosoever he be of you that forsaketh not all that he hath, he cannot by my disciple.” ’

‘Yes, sir, but—­’ she said quickly,—­then checked herself.

’Well, my dear?  My words will come best in answer to your questions, for then they can meet the very point of your difficulty.’

’You will not think me disrespectful, sir?—­I was going to say, you do not do that’—­said Hazel, hesitating over her words.  ’None of you.  You have Prim and Dr. Arthur,—­and Dr. Arthur comes home, and then Prim has her brother.  And there is the pretty house, and books, and engravings.  I don’t know anything about Mr. Rollo, of course,’ she said, correcting herself, ‘but I mean the rest of you.’

‘May we sit down?’ said Dr. Maryland, ’Dane and I have walked up from Mr. Falkirk’s.  Unless Dane likes to stand to accommodate the cat!’ said the doctor with a humourous glance at the shoulder where pussy sat with shut eyes, purring contentedly.  ’It’s a fair question, Hazel; and an easy mistake.  But my dear, so far as I know, Prim and Arthur and I have not kept anything.  For myself,’ said Dr. Maryland, lifting up a bright face, ’all that I have is my Master’s.  I am not the owner even of myself.  So long as his service bids me use the things entrusted to me in the way I am doing, I will use them so.  And whenever his honour, or his work, calls me to give up anything or everything of all these—­my home, my children, or my own life—­I am ready; it is the Lord’s now; he shall do with them all what he will.  Do you understand?’