“Ah, but how do we know that it is the truth?”

“Therein the metaphysician must minister to himself.  I cannot suggest to you any test of the truth, if you have none with you.  Everyone capable of pronouncing a judgment on any matter must feel how truthfully the personages in the Bible have been drawn.”

“Yes; the Bible is the Word of God.”

“I believe that it is, most certainly.  That profound wisdom; that toleration of the weaknesses of men; that sympathy with men, who cannot fathom the mysteries of life, and the struggle for life of all things that love life; that spirit I call God, and I don’t think that a better name has been found for it.”

“It—­for it?  You think of God as merely a force of nature?”

“Just the contrary.  God is the spirit that lives in warfare with nature.  Great Heavens! isn’t that the truth of which the whole Bible is the allegory?  Nature and nature’s laws constitute the Devil.  God is the opposing Force.  It is a law of nature to kill off the weak, to crush that which has fallen in the struggle.  It is God who helps the weak—­who helps the feeble.”

“But merely a force?”

“Oh, I have no private opinion on that part of the question.  I am not like that modern philosopher who fancied he had solved the whole problem by spelling God with a small g.  But don’t you think that we have gone quite far enough in our exchange of confidence for a first meeting?  You are what the Italians call simpatica—­that is, more than merely sympathetic.  You look at one, and lead one on to confide in you as one does not confide in most girls.  You are a thoroughly dangerous young woman, Miss Ayrton, though you are Mrs. Linton’s dearest friend.  By the way, can you make her confide in you?”

There seemed to be a measure of curiosity, not to say anxiety, in the tone of this inquiry.

“Well, she makes me confide in her.  I wonder if that is just the same thing,” said Phyllis.

“It’s not exactly the same thing,” said he.  “But it’s the proper course for dearest friends to adopt toward each other.  For the maintenance of a firm friendship between any two persons, only one should confide; the other should be strictly the confidante.  By the way, I wonder what is the average duration of the dearest friendship between two women.”

“Why should it have any limits?” said Phyllis gravely.  “What is the duration of the friendship between two men?”

“It mostly depends on when the woman makes her appearance,” said he, with a laugh.

“Ah!  So that——­Ah, never mind.  Ella was my dearest friend before Mr. Linton put in an appearance.”

“And he was mine before she put in an appearance,” said he.

“I didn’t know that,” said Phyllis.

“There, you see, is my contention borne out,” said he.  “You are the one who confides; she is the one who receives the confidences, and respects them, I’m sure.  I hope that you will do the same, Miss Ayrton.  Don’t let anyone know that I confided in you all that I think on the subject of the old Adam and the new Eve.”