"No!"

"You are a snare--a sorceress; you have beguiled my soul to its undoing! I was happy once; I walked in pleasant ways, but you have turned aside my feet to iniquity. God help me! How can I preach His Word with this raging fire in my breast! You shall love me! I forbid you to think of Finland. You are mine--mine--mine!"

With a dexterous twist Tera released her hand and flew out of the room, closing the door behind her. Johnson started in headlong pursuit, but stumbling blindly against the door, struck his forehead on the panels, and fell half stunned on the floor. There he lay and moaned, with his head spinning like a teetotum, until the sound of approaching steps made him rise and get into the desk chair. Then his mother, a commonplace type of her sex, much occupied with domestic affairs, entered to say that supper was ready.

"I don't want supper to-night, thank you, mother," said the minister, keeping his face turned away that she might not see the swelling on his forehead; "have it yourself, and go to bed."

"I can't find Bithiah, my son."

"She has retired, mother."

"Ah!" the old woman wagged her head like a mandarin, "she is no doubt meditating on the beautiful discourse of Brother Korah."

"No doubt, mother. Please go away; I am busy."

"There is cold meat and pickles, George."

"I am not hungry."

"I want you to say grace."

Johnson laughed bitterly. "I am not in the mood to say grace, mother."

The old lady, who was somewhat querulous, lifted up her voice in reproof of his irreligious speech; but Johnson cut her short, and persuaded her to leave the room. Then he looked the door and threw himself into his chair with a groan.

"I am only a man--a man. It is past all bearing. Oh, what a life--what a life! No money, no love--and a faith that fails me at need. Yet I was wrong to lose my temper. 'A fool's wrath is presently known; but a prudent man covereth shame.'"

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