"What ought to be the centre of our lives?" she persisted.
"The same as our earth's—the sun."
His tone was grave and quiet.
"Oh!" said Jean, with impatience in her tone. "I wish we didn't keep twisting round to religion. I never could be a saint! I have no wish to be one."
"I think," said Dr. Fergusson, ignoring her speech, "that there are three centres round which most people gravitate: Themselves, as you say, and that centre is the poorest and most unsatisfying of all. Then, the centre of others. It is a wider and more beneficial one. But our Maker created us to revolve round Him. We shall have mistaken our purpose in life, if we do aught else."
"I always have made mistakes," said Jean, "and I shall continue doing it to the end."
"Don't spoil your life here, child, for eternity has begun with you already, remember; and we are told that as a tree falls, so it will lie."
He placed his hand on her shoulder as he spoke.
Jean remembered the light pressure of it for long afterwards, and his words left a heavier pressure on her soul.
She made no reply. Her flippancy died away.