still to burn," observed Professor Owlsdarck, after rummaging about a
little for an historical parallel. "And here we seem to find a point
where the modern enthusiasm for water and the ancient fervor for wine
tend to like results."

Colonel Prowley was peculiarly interested,--so much so, indeed, that he
shook hands with us absently. Mrs. Widesworth was profuse in entreaties,
and then in hearty farewells.

We walked up the street.

A spring freshness was in that autumn evening. The air was purified by
the storm, as society is purified after a tempestuous feeling has blown
through it.

I think that both of her companions felt abased by the vivid faith which
sparkled in Miss Hurribattle's conversation. We were both rebuked by her
life-effort for what was high and positive and real. The clergyman,
examining the depths of his own sensitive spirit, felt keener contempt
for that theoretical good-will, that indefinite feeling of profound
desire, which might not be concentrated upon any reality. And it came
over me, how mean was the thirst and struggle for a merely professional
eminence which filled my common days. As in a mental _mirage_, which
loomed above the thickening twilight, I saw how our paths diverged, and
whither each must surely tend. No doubtful way was hers, the
single-hearted woman of lofty aims, of restless feminine activity, of
holy impatience with sin. She might, indeed, miss the clue which guides
through the labyrinth; but then her life would teach mankind even better
than she designed. On the other hand,--supposing the position attained
which too constantly occupied my own thoughts,--there was an admiration