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lover's calendar of dates and seasons。 There was the time before she would see him and the time afterno other time than that。
The trouble that weighed upon her most heavily was her deceitfulness to the aunts。 Fifty times that day she was on the edge of speaking and telling them all； but she was held back by the vagueness of her relations to Martin。 Were they engaged？ Did he even love her？ He had only kissed her。 He had said nothing。 No； she must wait； but with this definite sense of her wickedness weighing upon hernot wickedness to herself； for that she cared nothing； but wickedness to themshe tried； on this day； to be a pattern member of the household； going softly everywhere that she was told； closing doors behind her； being punctual and careful。 Unhappily it was a day of misfortune； it was one of Aunt Anne's more worldly hours and she thought that she would spend it in training Maggie。 Very goodbut Maggie dropped a glass into which flowers were to have been put； she shook her pen when she was addressing some envelopes so that some drops of ink were scattered upon the carpet； and； in her haste to be punctual； she banged her bedroom door so loudly that Aunt Anne was waked from her afternoon nap。
A scene followed。 Aunt Anne showed herself very human； like any other aunt justly exasperated by any other niece。
〃I sometimes despair of you； Maggie。 You will not think of others。 I don't wish to be hard or unjust； but selfishness is the name of your greatest weakness。〃
Maggie； standing with her hands behind her； a spot of ink on her nose and her short hair ruffled； was hard and unrepentant。
〃You must send me away；〃 she said； 〃I'm not a success here。 You don't like me。〃
Aunt Anne looked at Maggie with eyes that were clear and cold like deep unfriendly waters。 〃You mustn't say that。 We love you； but you have very much to learn。 To…night I shall speak to Miss Avies and arrange that you go to have a talk with her sometimes。 She is a wise woman who knows many things。 My sister and I are not strong enough to deal with you； and we are weakened perhaps by our love for you。〃
〃I don't want to go to…night；〃 Maggie said； then she burst out： 〃Oh； can't I lead an ordinary life like other girlsbe free and find things out for myself； not only go by what older people tell me earn my living and be free？ I've never lived an ordinary life。 Life with Father wasn't fair； and now〃
Aunt Anne put out her arm and drew her towards her。 〃Poor Maggie 。 。 。 Aren't you unfair to us？ Do you suppose really that we don't love you？ Do you think that I don't understand？ You shall be free； afterwards； if you wishperfectly freebut you must have the opportunity of learning what this life is first； what the love of God is； what the companionship of Him is。 If after you have seen you still reject it； we will not try to keep you。 But it is God's will that you stay with us for a time。〃
〃How do you know that it is God's will？〃 asked Maggie； melted nevertheless； as she always was by any sign of affection。
〃He has told me；〃 Aunt Anne answered； and then closed her eyes。
Maggie went away with a sensation of being tracked by some stealthy mysterious force that was creeping ever closer and closer upon her； that she could only feel but not see。 For instance； she might have said that she would not go to Chapel to…night； and she might have taken her stand upon that。 And yet she could not say that。 Of course she must go because she must see Martin； but even if she had known that he would not be there she would have gone。 Was it curiosity？ Was it reminiscence？ Was it superstition？ Was it cowardice？ Was it loneliness？ All these things； perhaps； and yet something more than they 。 。 。
All through the afternoon of the lovely November day she anticipated that evening's services as though it were in some way to be a climax。 She knew that it was to be for all of them an especial affair。 She had heard during the last days much discussion of old Mr。 Crashaw。 He was an old man with； apparently； a wonderful history of conversions behind him。 His conversions had been； it seemed； of the forcible kind； seizing people by the neck and shoving them in； he was a fierce and militant kind of saint； he believed； it seemed； in damnation and eternal hell fire； and could make you believe in them too； his accent was on the tortures rather than the triumphs of religion。
But Maggie had other thoughts； in this； outside Mr。 Crashaw。 She had never lost the force of that first meeting with Mr。 Warlock； she had avoided him simply because she was afraid lest he should influence her too much； but now after her friendship with Martin she felt that she could never meet old Mr。 Warlock frankly again。 What he would say to her if he knew that she meant to take his son away from him she knew well enough。 On every side there was trouble and difficulty。 She could not see a friend anywhere unless it was Caroline； whom she did not completely trust； and Mr。 Magnus； whom her deception of her aunt would； she knew； most deeply distress。 Meanwhile she was being pushed forward more and more into the especial religious atmosphere of the house； the Chapel and the Chapel sect。 Of no use to tell herself that this was only a tiny fragment of the whole world； that there； only five yards away from her； in the Strand； was a life that swept past the Chapel and its worshippers with the utmost； completest indifference。 She had always this feeling that she was caught； that she could only escape by a desperate violent effort that would hurt others and perhaps be； for herself； a lasting reproach。 She wanted so simple a thing 。 。 。 to be always with Martin； working； with all this confusing； baffling； mysterious religion behind her； this simple thing seemed incredibly difficult of attainment。
Nevertheless； when they started that evening for the Chapel she felt； in spite of herself； a strange almost pleasurable excitement。 There was； in that plain； ugly building some force that could not be denied。 Was it the force of the worshippers' belief？ Was it the force of some outside power that watched ironically the efforts of those poor human beings to discover it？ Was it the love of a father for his children？ No； there was very little love in this creedno more than there had been in her father's creed before。 As she walked along between her aunts her brain was a curious jumble of religion； Martin； and how she was ever going to learn to be tidy and punctual。
〃Well； I won't care；〃 was the resolution with which she always brought to an end her discussions and misgivings。 〃I'm myself。 Nobody can touch me unless I let them。〃
It was a most lovely evening； very pale and clear with an orange light in the sky like the reflection of some far distant towering fire。 The air was still and the rumble of the town scarcely penetrated into their street； they could hear the ugly voice of the little Chapel bell jangling in the heart of the houses； there was a scent of chrysanthemums from somewhere and a very faint suggestion of snoweven before they reached the Chapel door a few flakes lazily began to fall。
Maggie was thinking now only of Martin。 There was a gas…lamp already lighted in the Chapel doorway； and this blinded her eyes。