"The fear of being afraid," said Mr. O'Flagherty thoughtfully; "that's a wonderful little spirit. You can't get hold of him properly, but he ought to be burnt, and he must be. There he goes! May he never come back to trouble you, for he is a perfect fraud, he's a shadow wrapped in a big black cloak, there's nothing in him!"
Silence fell upon the little group.
"True courage," said Miss Bertha quietly, "is losing sight of self in an emergency."
"And yet," said Mr. O'Flagherty, "I admire the man who is really full of fear, acting as if he had none."
"Yes," the little old lady said with a quick, bright nod at Christina. "It doesn't matter about feelings. Life is doing, not feeling."
Christina looked up. She was the only one of the three children that caught the idea, and the dawning intelligence in her eyes amused the artist. He pointed his finger at his small son.
"That bit of quicksilver will be ruled by his feelings all his life, I fear. That tough young Briton—yes, I'm speaking of you, John Bull—will be ruled by his head, not his heart."
"And me?" asked Christina breathlessly.
"Neither your head nor your heart, but your conscience will be your master," Mr. O'Flagherty said, laughing.
"No," said Miss Bertha very gently and softly; "my prayer for Tina is, 'The love of Christ constraineth us.' He is a better guide than conscience."