"You have taken my confidence by storm," he continued，"and now it is much at your service. I am simply，in my original state-

stripped of that blood-bleached robe with which Christianity covers human deformity- a cold，hard，ambitious man. Natural affection only，of all the sentiments，has permanent power over me. Reason，and not feeling，is my guide; my ambition is unlimited: my desire to rise higher，to do more than others，insatiable. I honour endurance，perseverance，industry，talent; because these are the means by which men achieve great ends and mount to lofty eminence. I watch your career with interest，because I consider you a specimen of a diligent，orderly，energetic woman: not because I deeply passionate what you have gone through，or what you still suffer."

"You would describe yourself as a mere pagan philosopher," I said.

"No. There is this difference between me and deistic philosophers: I believe; and I believe the Gospel. You missed your epithet. I am not a pagan，but a Christian philosopher- a follower of the sect of Jesus. As His disciple I adopt His pure，His merciful，His benignant doctrines. I advocate them: I am sworn to spread them. Won in youth to religion，she has cultivated my original qualities thus:- From the minute germ，natural affection，she has developed the overshadowing tree，philanthropy. From the wild stringy root of human uprightness，she has reared a due sense of the Divine justice. Of the ambition to win power and renown for my wretched self，she has formed the ambition to spread my Master"s kingdom; to achieve victories for the standard of the cross. So much has religion done for me; turning the original materials to the best account; pruning and training nature. But she could not eradicate nature: nor will it be eradicated "till this mortal shall put on immortality.""

Having said this，he took his hat，which lay on the table beside my palette. Once more he looked at the portrait.