r　if　it　be；　it　has　put　on　the　robes　of　an　angel　of　light。　I　think　I　must　admit　so　fair　a　guest　when　it　asks　entrance　to　my　heart。”

“Distrust　it；　sir；　it　is　not　a　true　angel。”

“Once　more；　how　do　you　know？　By　what　instinct　do　you　pretend　to　distinguish　between　a　fallen　seraph　of　the　abyss　and　a　messenger　from　the　eternal　throne—between　a　guide　and　a　seducer？”

“I　judged　by　your　countenance；　sir；　which　was　troubled　when　you　said　the　suggestion　had　returned　upon　you。　I　feel　sure　it　will　work　you　more　misery　if　you　listen　to　it。”

“Not　at　all—it　bears　the　most　gracious　message　in　the　world：　for　the　rest；　you　are　not　my　conscience…keeper；　so　don’t　make　yourself　uneasy。　Here；　e　in；　bonny　wanderer！”

He　said　this　as　if　he　spoke　to　a　vision；　viewless　to　any　eye　but　his　own；　then；　folding　his　arms；　which　he　had　half　extended；　on　his　chest；　he　seemed　to　enclose　in　their　embrace　the　invisible　being。

“Now；”　he　continued；　again　addressing　me；　“I　have　received　the　pilgrim—a　disguised　deity；　as　I　verify　believe。　Already　it　has　done　me　good：　my　heart　was　a　sort　of　charnel；　it　will　now　be　a　shrine。”

“To　speak　truth；　sir；　I　don’t　understand　you　at　all：　I　cannot　keep　up　the　conversation；　because　it　has　got　out　of　my　depth。　Only　one　thing；　I　know：　you　said　you　were　not　as　good　as　you　should　like　to　be；　and　that　you　regretted　your　own　imperfection；—one　thing　I　can　prehend：　you　intimated　that　to　have　a　sullied　memory　was　a　perpetual　bane。　It　seems　to　me