purely, by means of their own individual efforts. So, while I love you dearly cousin Proctor, and feel the tenderest gratitude for your goodness in this and a thousand other ways, I must still reject your offer."

Proctor knew too well the simple truthfulness and integrity of her soul, to urge her farther. She left Brocken dale, and went about her work in the world with a strong and cheerful spirit, bearing about indeed with her the consciousness of a heart unsatisfied, a deep need unfulfilled, but feeling within her, a steady triumphant faith -that in God's own good way and time-if not in this world, then in some other, this strong desire of her soul would be gratified.

Towards spring, an event occurred which, though of apparently little consequence, exercised at last a marked influence upon the lives of all with whom this story chiefly deals.

Ever since the autumn, Richard had noted with deep interest the growing influence of Father Dunne over Elsie. It was not only that the priest directed all her reading; that by his apparent direction her devotional exercises were greatly multiplied, and her penitential conferences with him longer and more frequent, but that when he was at the house, as he now generally was as often as once or twice a week, there seemed a certain deeper, more intimate, more absorbing relation between them than he had ever noticed before. This relation was not of a nature to be suspected as criminal, but, nevertheless, it was one which might reasonably have rendered any husband uneasy, and it certainly did cause Richard a great many hours of troubled surmise and conjecture. He had confidence in Father Dunne's general character, and he did not believe Elsie a woman to be easily swerved from the course of propriety; still he could not be bind to the circumstance that his influence over her was absorbing, his will imperative; in short, it seemed to

Richard that exactly the relations existed between them, that exist between the mesmerizer and his subject. Still Richard felt that under the circumstances he had not the slightest right to interfere, and so the matter took its own course.

But on the occasion alluded to, it happened or else the priest had so willed-that Mrs. Vaughan and Proc. tor were invited to take tea at the Doctor's, to meet Father Dunne. It was a quiet genial evening. Elsie had evidently exerted herself to entertain her guests in her very best manner, and as usual when she attempted anything in the housekeeping line, she succeeded to a marvel.

During the evening's conversation, the subject of celibacy come up. Mrs. Vaughan, of course, expressed the usual Protestant horror of that course of life. Father Dunne, on the other hand, in the ablest manner, with the softest accent, and the most finished diction set forth its merits. Mrs. Vaughan at the end of the discussion declared herself deeply impressed by what he had said, without suspecting the priest of the slightest ulterior motive. Proctor, however, who, like Richard, had noticed the growing iufluence of Father Dunne over Elsie, did not fail on this occasion to notice that there was an understanding between these two; and that whenever the priest made a good point the lady silently applauded; nay, more, that she seconded his efforts with now and then a pertinent observation that produced a very telling affect upon Mrs. Vaughan. Proctor reasoned that so visible an effort certainly was not put forth without a purpose. Not even a catholic priest so able as Father Dunne could expect to make a nun of Mrs. Vaughan, but might he not be suspected of designs upon Elsie, the way to the fulfilment of which this discussion might be expected to

smooth?

Proctor thought the matter over during several hours of that night.

The result was that the next morning he deliberately re-opened the con versation concerning celibacy with his mother, by a remark which elicited this reply:

Why, Proctor, I hope you don't think of turning mank?"

"Not exactly, replied Proctor with a smile, "but this seems to me very evident. You will pardon me, at my age, for knowing more about the wickedness of the world than any lady of your position and circumstances possibly can, and allow me to assure you that society everywhere groans under a weight of abuses and infirmities which grow directly out of the inordinate self-indulgence of men and women, particularly in the sexual relation. Now I truly believe that the virtue most called for by the present state of society, is that of abstinence, self-sacrifice. To most women of Elsie's age and circumstances, for instance, it would be a far smaller cross to give up the world and its pleasures, than to most men, and while I think the virtue would be far greater to be in the world, yet not of it-that is to live a life of abstinence and self-renunciation without taking conventual vows, still I have not the horror of a convent which many have."

Mrs. Vaughan considered for a few moments in silence.

"Proctor," she said at length, "do you think Elsie intends to go into a convent ?"

I cannot say; but I have an idea that Father Dunne intends she shall."

"That would be horrible. Richard is noble; not even because of the freedom it would give him would he allow it."

"Mother, I think that you get on too fast, and look at things too much in the light of old teachings. Richard has borne a great deal, and borne it bravely. I do not think Elsie could ever suffer so much in a convent cell, as he has suffered bearing the burdens of life besides. I do not approve the

vows, but I do think after all that in God's Providence has come to pass, a life of abstinence and spiritual aspiration is the very best that is left to her. If Eloise were in her place, think what an example of purity and sweetness and self-renunciation she would exhibit to the world. If Elsie cannot be all this and still retain her place in the active world, I for one have no objection to her going into a convent. There are circumstances of far deeper trial and greater suffering than that all over the world."

That was the beginning. When the thing dawned upon Richard's perception, his feeling was one of gladness that it did not devolve upon him to decide the matter one way or the other. But in this he was mistaken. His enlightenment came about in this way.

Proctor, going into the Doctor's house for a call one day, met at the door Father Dunne. Entering, he found Elsie in tears.

"What is it, cousin Elsie," he exclaimed gayly, has the reverend father been scolding you?"

"Oh! Proctor," she exclaimed, "you must not talk to me in that way. The cause of my grief is indeed one which concerns the interest of my soul, and I dare not jest about it. Neither has Father Dunne any word in bringing it about, on the contrary, he would very gladly help me if he could."

"Well, since you have told me so much, suppose you go on and give me a full statement of the case. If it is anything which common sense or the good-will of a friend may remedy, I think I can promise to aid you."

"It is just this," said Elsie, apparently glad of the relief of confession. "Since my life has grown so hard and complicated, so different from the life every married woman looks forward to, I have grown more and more sick of the world, and long to leave it and take upon myself religious vows. Father Dunne himself thinks it would

anew a stranger in a strange land. But he made the sacrifice cheerfully, because he believed it due to a noble principle. For six months he was as poor as the poorest of those who wear broadcloth and consider themselves as belonging to the respectable classes of life. It was a year before he found himself in possession of the necessary funds with which to obtain the legal disenthralment which he craved; but at the end of that time, news came to Brockendale that the Doctor had gained a divorce. There was the usual amount of denunciation and innuendo and scurrilous jesting among persons of vulgar minds, as well as some sincerely sad reflections from nobler natures, who still looked only upon the surface for the Doctor's motives and their justification. Through all Brockendale, there was perhaps scarce one besides Proctor Vaughan who felt what, if God be just, was surely true that Dr. Glendenning, in his painful protest against false social conditions and arbitrary human legislation, was as truly a martyr-as surely worthy of a martyr's crown and blessing as those of old who sealed their faith with their blood.

Before the autumn came, much which before had been vague took definite shape. Elsie's determination to adopt a conventual life, and to bestow upon her Order her recently inherited fortune, was publicly announced; and, in her own way, she too felt the horns of that vicious beast, society. She encountered reproaches, calumnies, ostracism; but strong in her faith, and leaning steadily upon the arm of Father Dunne, and invoking constantly the aid of the Holy Mother Church, she persevered, and in the end found such peace as a life of endless prayers and embroideries might bring. Let us not sneer! The human soul, with its divine unearthly insight, is a thing which ignorant legislatures, making laws whose provisions are wholly material, without one glimpse beyond the "what we

shall eat, and what we shall drink, and wherewithal we shall be clothed," can never tame or conquer. No more successful are those religionists who prescribe one goal of peace, one road thereto, for all the human race. On the Father's bosom shall each child rest at last, and the Father himself, He dwelleth alike in prison-cell, in convent-cloister, in church and counting-room, in the field and by the way-side. Wherever a human soul cries out, "Oh, Father I am weary, give me thy rest ;" there be sure is the Father's bosom.

Of the child Dora, the Doctor and Father Dunne were, at Elsie's request, appointed joint guardians. She was to live with her father, but to grow. up under the general direction and oversight of the church. When she arrived at mature years, she was to be left to her own free choice in the matter of religion. Elsie knew Richard Glendenning too well to fear for her child's happiness, and Richard was too deeply impressed with the sacredness of the soul's divine birthright, to wish to restrict his child from knowing of her mother's faith, and sympathizing with her thorny and peculiar life.

At length the Doctor slowly prospered in his new home. He won new friends, he made anew his reputation. Success again dawned upon his pathway. The time seemed near at hand when the deep and solemn purpose of his life might reach fruition. He had not seen Eloise since she had left Brockendale, after her illness, but he knew there was no change in her.

In the early autumn he packed his valise and started eastward. He had warned her of his coming, and she sat in her little parlor-studio, waiting with anxious heart-beats the ringing of the door-bell The years had changed her but slightly. Here and there a silver thread gleamed prematurely in her hair; her cheek had lost something of its girlish bloom,

but her eyes still shone with that deep spiritual light, which only beams from eyes made clear by piercing the deep recesses of that inner life, which no soul knoweth by the outward vision. Still she was that rare, pale, perfect woman for whom Richard Glendenning's soul yearned with an immortal yearning.

He came at last. She saw him come up the step and ring the bellheard his footstep on the stair, and with a stillness that was like a dream she opened the door for him. But the dream grew real when she heard her name called. "Eloise, my own, own Eloise," and felt strong arms about her, and a warm and tender kiss upon her lips It was too real. She shrank away from him, and looked again into his deep, dark eyes, to assure herself that in his quiet, noble bearing there was no shadow of guiltiness. Even the very sweetness of this joy seemed for an instant shadowed by the remembrance of the world's dark frown. But Richard seeing that she faltered, re-assured her.

"Darling," he said, "have you any fear that God and his good angels look with sad eyes upon our meeting?"

"Not one," she said. 66 Thinking of that, I am weak no longer. If God himself has taught us and we have learned His lesson, the world has no right to frown."

They sat down together, and hand in hand, like two children, quaffed their cup of innocent bliss. Evening came on, and still he lingered, winning little by little the shy return of his tender words and ways, and listening to the fond recital of all her hopes and fears during these long years.

"I want to go to Brockendale once more," she said, "before making my home in that far country. I wonder if we may ?"

To

"Most certainly we may. morrow we will give the world due notice of what it may expect of us hereafter, and then we will take the

evening train for the old town. We will take a couple of days there, and then Westward ho!"

"I shall want to go down to the new bridge which they have built in the place of the one you and I destroyed one rainy night. Richard, why was it, that in that dreadful, dreadful time, with all that was terrible above, around and below us, and only our two selves and those few frail planks that appeared in any way to belong to the world we seemed so rapidly leaving, why was it, that in that moment, love should have proved his triumph?"

Because, dear, true love is of the spirit, immortal, and delights to set at naught all material obstacles. Fancy two flirting vanities of society's choicest brand, so placed; or two attract. ed to each other by that desire of the eye which worketh death, I imagine the result would have been slightly different."

"Thank God," said Eloise, fervently, "for his own seal set upon every true and living emotion, the seal of divine endurance, even in the very jaws of death. Oh! Richard, it is little, after all, to be sneered at; to be passed by with coldness; to feel our lives robbed of much innocent freshness and joy by the scorn of the world, so that we may also feel the divinity of the principle for which we suffer."

Yes, darling; and every true protest against the false ideas and teachings of the world concerning God's eternal sacrament of love, is a step gained towards the right consideration and elucidation of the matter. Yea, though the protestants be misguided and see but dimly, still if they cry out bravely that danger and sin lurk hereabouts, there will be some to hear and some to heed, and so the work will go on, till at last the day will come when the world shall waken to the fact that lust is not love, and that whoever mistakes the one for the other, or puts the one in place of the