spreading, ascending heart-fire: and he stirred, lifted his strong arm — he could have struck Mason, dashed him on the church-floor, shocked by ruthless blow the breath from his body — but Mason shrank away, and cried faintly, “Good God!” Contempt fell cool on Mr. Rochester — his passion died as if a blight had shrivelled it up: he only asked — “What have you to say?”

An inaudible reply escaped Mason’s white lips.

“The devil is in it if you cannot answer distinctly. I again demand, what have you to say?”

“Sir — sir,” interrupted the clergyman, “do not forget you are in a sacred place.” Then addressing Mason, he inquired gently, “Are you aware, sir, whether or not this gentleman’s