“Of course not.  The word inspiration has no place in a commercial vocabulary, Miss Ayrton.”

“But it is a good word elsewhere, Mr. Courtland.

“Yes, it has its meaning.  You think that it may be safely applied to the wearing of an effective toilet.  I wonder if you would think of applying it to the words you said to me on the last evening I was here?”

It was in a very low tone, and after a long pause, that she said: 

“I hope if what I told you Mrs. Haddon said was an inspiration, it was a good one.  I felt that I must tell you, Mr. Courtland, though I fear that I gave you some pain—­great pain.  I know what it is to be reminded of an irreparable loss.”

“Pain—­pain?” said he.  Then he raised his eyes to hers.  “I wonder if you will ever know what effect your words had upon me, Miss Ayrton?” he added.  “I don’t suppose that you will ever know; but I tell you that it would be impossible for me ever to cease to think of you as my good angel.”

She flushed slightly, very slightly, before saying: 

“How odd that Ella should call me her good angel, too, on that same night!”

“And she spoke the truth, if ever truth was spoken,” he cried.

Her face was very serious as she said: 

“Of course I don’t understand anything of this, Mr. Courtland.”

“No,” he said; “it would be impossible for you to understand anything of it.  It would be impossible for you to understand how I feel toward you—­how I have felt toward you since you spoke those words in this room; those words that came to me as the light from heaven came to Saul of Tarsus; words of salvation.  Believe me, I shall never forget them.”

“I am so glad,” said she.  “I am glad, though, as I say, I understand nothing.”

Then there had been a long interval of silence before she had asked him something further regarding the yachting party.

And now she was lying on her bed trying to recall every word that he had spoken, and with a dread over her that what he had said would bear out that terrible suspicion which she had prayed to God to forgive her for entertaining on that night when Ella had gone home with her husband.

No rumor had reached her ears regarding the closeness of the intimacy existing between Mr. Courtland and Mrs. Linton; and thus it was that when that suspicion had come upon her, after Ella had left her, she felt that she was guilty of something akin to a crime—­a horrible breach of friendship, only to be expiated by tears and prayers.

That terrible thought had been borne upon her as a suggestion to account for much that she could not understand in the words and the behavior of Ella during that remarkable evening; and, in spite of her remorse and her prayers, she could not rid herself of it.  It left its impression upon her mind, upon her heart.  Hitherto she had only heard about the way an unlawful passion sweeps over two people, causing them to fling to the winds all considerations of home, of husband, of religion, of honor; and she felt it to be very terrible to be brought face to face with such a power; it seemed to her as terrible as to be brought face to face with that personal Satan in whom she believed.