as to nourish the blood without inflaming it. It can do you no
harm,--in fact, for you, Harland, it is an excellent thing."

"Why for me in particular?" queried Harland, rather sharply.

"Because you need it,"--answered Santoris--"My dear fellow, you are
not in the best of health. And you will never get better under your
present treatment."

I looked up eagerly.

"That is what I, too, have thought,"--I said--"only I dared not
express it!"

Mr. Harland surveyed me with an amused smile.

"Dared not! I know nothing you would not dare!--but with all your
boldness, you are full of mere theories,--and theories never made an
ill man well yet."

Santoris exchanged a swift glance with me. Then he spoke:--

"Theory without practice is, of course, useless,"--he said--"But
surely you can see that this lady has reached a certain plane of
thought on which she herself dwells in health and content? And can
she not serve you as an object lesson?"

"Not at all,"--replied Mr. Harland, almost testily--"She is a woman
whose life has been immersed in study and contemplation, and because
she has allowed herself to forego many of the world's pleasures she