pleasures would seem to be innocent, but even these it is better to
renounce, since for that purpose does every pleasure exist. I speak
of the pleasures of the world. One joy there is which we may and
must pursue, the joy of sacrifice. The more the body suffers, the
greater should be the delight of the soul; and the only moment of
perfect happiness should be that when the world grows dark around
us, and we feel the hand of death upon our hearts."

She was silent, and both sat in the cold room without word or
motion.





CHAPTER V

POSSIBILITIES




Christmas passed, and the beginning of the New Year drew nigh. And,
one morning, as Mr. Woodstock was glancing up and down the pages of
a ledger, a telegram was delivered to him. It was from a hospital in
the north-west of London. "Your daughter is dying, and wishes to see
you. Please come at once."

Lotty's ailment had declared itself as pneumonia. She was frequently
delirious, and the substance of her talk at such times led the