idealists--the men who gave up the comfort of their firesides, the
gain of their occupations, and followed whither the vision led; the
woman whose home was built upon love and who would see only infamy in
houses founded otherwise; the poor soul beside her, stronger in
courage, more aspiring in thought, than she, with all her delicacies,
her refinements of taste. The ideal had led them all--the ideal, as it
had once shone for her and for him whose spirit had informed and
beautified the spot where she sat and made her choice.

"Aunt Harriet," she said, and her face was like the sudden flashing of
stars between torn clouds,--"Aunt Harriet--" She could not utter the
decision in words. "May I come to see you--and learn something from
you?"

Miss Hayter looked. There was no need to question. No knight ever rose
from his accolade with a face more glorified than Millicent's when she
silently dedicated herself to the shining company of those who keep
unsullied the early vision.

As she passed out of the hall, her eyes fell again upon the painting
of the Temptation. She read the black and gilt legend below it--"And
Angels Came and Ministered Unto Him." Then she laughed down upon the
old-fashioned figure trotting by her side. "And angels came," she
said.

Her rapt look frightened Anna when the automobile returned for her.
Then the heart of that frivolous woman was stricken for a moment with
wistfulness.

"You seem very happy," she faltered, "and--amused, is it? What are you