“No.  I will tell you how it was.  I had been tormented with the inclination to go to him, and had been resisting it till I was worn out, and could hardly bear it more.  Suddenly all grew calm within me, and I seemed to hate Count Halkar no longer.  I thought with myself how easy it would be to put a stop to this dreadful torment, just by yielding to it —­ only this once.  I thought I should then be stronger to resist the next time; for this was wearing me out so, that I must yield the next time, if I persisted now.  But what seemed to justify me, was the thought that so I should find out where he was, and be able to tell Hugh; and then he would get the ring for me, and, perhaps that would deliver me.  But it was very wrong of me.  I forgot all about the will of God.  I will not go again, Margaret.  Do you think I may try again to fight him?”

“That is just what you must do.  All that God requires of you is, to try again.  God’s child must be free.  Do try, dear Miss Cameron.”

“I think I could, if you would call me Euphra.  You are so strong, and pure, and good, Margaret!  I wish I had never had any thoughts but such as you have, you beautiful creature!  Oh, how glad I am that you found me!  Do watch me always.”

“I will call you Euphra.  I will be your sister-servant —­ anything you like, if you will only try again.”

“Thank you, with all my troubled heart, dear Margaret.  I will indeed try again.”

She sprang from the couch in a sudden agony, and grasping Margaret by the arm, looked at her with such a terror-stricken face, that she began to fear she was losing her reason.

“Margaret,” she said, as if with the voice as of one just raised from the dead, speaking with all the charnel damps in her throat, “could it be that I am in love with him still?”

Margaret shuddered, but did not lose her self-possession.

“No, no, Euphra, darling.  You were haunted with him, and so tired that you were not able to hate him any longer.  Then you began to give way to him.  That was all.  There was no love in that.”

Euphra’s grasp relaxed.

“Do you think so?”

“Yes.”

A pause followed.

“Do you think God cares to have me do his will?  Is it anything to him?”

“I am sure of it.  Why did he make you else?  But it is not for the sake of being obeyed that he cares for it, but for the sake of serving you and making you blessed with his blessedness.  He does not think about himself, but about you.”

“Oh, dear! oh, dear!  I must not go.”

“Let me read to you again, Eupra.”

“Yes, please do, Margaret.”

She read the fortieth chapter of Isaiah, one of her father’s favourite chapters, where all the strength and knowledge of God are urged to a height, that they may fall in overwhelming profusion upon the wants and fears and unbelief of his children.  How should he that calleth the stars by their names forget his people?