"I will come... afterwards."

"After what?" he insisted.

"After--" she said, and paused.
Then suddenly lifted bold, guileless
eyes: "After you stop caring for my
soul."

John Fenn caught his breath. Something,
he did not know what, seemed to
jar him rudely from that pure desire
for her salvation; he said, stumblingly,
that he would ALWAYS care for her soul!--
"for--for any one's soul." And was
she quite well? His voice broke with
tenderness. She must be careful to
avoid the chill of these autumnal
afternoons; "you are pale," he said,
passionately--"don't--oh, don't be so
pale!" It occurred to him that if she
waited for him "not to care" for her
salvation, she might die in her sins;
die before coming to the gate of heaven,
which he was so anxious to open to her!

Philippa did not see his agitation;
she was not looking at him. She only
said, softly, "Perhaps you will stay to
tea?"