"You!" he exclaimed. "--But I mean no individual application," he
added, "except as reflected from the general truth. This house is
like every human soul, and so, like me and you and all of us. We
have found the chapel of the house, the place they used to pray to
God in, built up, lost, forgotten, filled with dust and damp--and
the mouldering dead lying there before the Lord, waiting to be made
live again and praise him!"
"I said you meant me!" murmured Arctura, with a faint, sad smile.
"No; the time is past for that. It is long since first you were
aware of the dead self in the lost chapel; a hungry soul soon misses
both, and knows, without being sure of it, that they are somewhere.
You have kept searching for them in spite of all persuasion that the
quest was foolish."
Arctura's eyes shone in her pale face; but they shone with gathering
tears. Donal turned away, and took up the pail. She rose, and guided
him to his tower-stair, where he went up and she went down.
CHAPTER LVII.
THE HOUSEKEEPER'S ROOM.
As the clock upon the schoolroom chimney-piece struck the hour,
Arctura entered, and at once took her seat at the table with
Davie--much to the boy's wonder and pleasure. Donal gave her a
Euclid, and set her a task: she began at once to learn it--and after
a while so brief that Davie stared incredulous, said,
"If you please, Mr.
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