The child sat down on the corner of a chair with a scared look in her eyes. Suddenly she said—
“Oh, what a lot of burnt paper!”
“Yes; I have been burning some old letters.”
“I think,” said John, “I will go now.” Without a word of farewell he went out, almost groping his way.
He had lost the best of all the things he held dear. Twice he had gone through the fire. The first time worldly ambition left him, on the second love. An hour before the air had been full of singing and peace that was resonant like joy. Now he saw standing before his Eden the angel with the flaming sword. All the hope he had ever gathered about him had taken itself off, and the naked soul shivered.
