`But surely you would not say those men were equally guilty in the sight of God?'

`Either that,' said Arthur, `or else I must give up my belief in God's perfect justice. But let me put one more case, which will show my meaning even more forcibly. Let the one man be in a high social position-- the other, say, a common thief. Let the one be tempted to some trivial act of unfair dealing--something which he can do with the absolute certainty that it will never be discovered--something which he can with perfect ease forbear from doing--and which he distinctly knows to be a sin. Let the other be tempted to some terrible crime--as men would consider it--but under an almost overwhelming pressure of motives--of course not quite overwhelming, as that would destroy all responsibility. Now, in this case, let the second man make a greater effort at resistance than the first. Also suppose both to fall under the temptation--I say that the second man is, in God's sight, less guilty than the other.'

Lady Muriel drew a long breath. `It upsets all one's ideas of Right and Wrong--just at first! Why, in that dreadful murder-trial, you would say, I suppose, that it was possible that the least guilty man in the Court was the murderer, and that possibly the judge who tried him, by yielding to the temptation of making one unfair remark, had committed a crime outweighing the criminal's whole career!'

`Certainly I should,' Arthur firmly replied. `It sounds like a paradox, I admit. But just think what a grievous sin it must be, in God's sight, to yield to some very slight temptation, which we could have resisted with perfect ease, and to do it deliberately, and in the full light of God's Law. What penance can atone for a sin like that?'

`I ca'n't reject your theory,' I said. `But how it seems to widen the possible area of Sin in the world!'

`Is that so?' Lady Muriel anxiously enquired.

`Oh, not so, not so!' was the eager reply. `To me it seems to clear away much of the cloud that hangs over the world's history. When this view first made itself clear to me, I remember walking out into the fields, repeating to myself that line of Tennyson "There seemed no room for sense of wrong!" The thought, that perhaps the real guilt of the human race was infinitely less than I fancied it--that the millions, whom I had thought of as sunk in hopeless depth of sin, were perhaps, in God's sight, scarcely sinning at all-- was more sweet than words can tell! Life seemed more bright and beautiful, when once that thought had come! "A livelier emerald twinkles in the grass, A purer sapphire melts into the sea!" ' His voice trembled as he concluded, and the tears stood in his eyes.

Lady Muriel shaded her face with her hand, and was silent for a minute. `It is a beautiful thought,' she said, looking up at last. `Thank you--Arthur, for putting it into my head!'

The Earl returned in time to join us at tea, and to give us the very unwelcome tidings that a fever had broken out in the little harbour-town that lay below us--a fever of so malignant a type that, though it had only appeared a day or two ago, there were already more than a dozen down in it, two or three of whom were reported to be in imminent danger.

In answer to the eager questions of Arthur--who of course took a deep scientific interest in the matter-- he could give very few technical details, though he had met the local doctor. It appeared, however, that it was an almost new disease--at least in this century, though it might prove to be identical with the `Plague' recorded in History--very infectious, and frightfully rapid in its action. `It will not, however, prevent our party tomorrow,' he said in conclusion. `None of the guests belong to the infected district, which is, as you know, exclusively peopled by fishermen: so you may come without any fear.'

Arthur was very silent, all the way back, and, on reaching our lodgings, immediately plunged into medical studies, connected with the alarming malady of whose arrival he had just heard.