ESTHER

_A Novel_

Published in 1884 by Henry Holt and Company

_Chapter I_

The new church of St. John's, on Fifth Avenue, was thronged the morningof the last Sunday of October, in the year 1880. Sitting in the gallery, beneath the unfinished frescoes, and looking down the nave, one caughtan effect of autumn gardens, a suggestion of chrysanthemums andgeraniums, or of October woods, dashed with scarlet oaks and yellowmaples. As a display of austerity the show was a failure, but ifcheerful content and innocent adornment please the Author of the liliesand roses, there was reason to hope that this first service at St. John's found favor in his sight, even though it showed no victory overthe world or the flesh in this part of the United States. The sun camein through the figure of St. John in his crimson and green garments ofglass, and scattered more color where colors already rivaled the flowersof a prize show; while huge prophets and evangelists in flowing robeslooked down from the red walls on a display of human vanities that wouldhave called out a vehement Lamentation of Jeremiah or Song of Solomon, had these poets been present in flesh as they were in figure. 

Solomon was a brilliant but not an accurate observer; he looked at theworld from the narrow stand-point of his own temple. Here in New York hecould not have truthfully said that all was vanity, for even a moreill-natured satirist than he must have confessed that there was in thisnew temple to-day a perceptible interest in religion. One might almosthave said that religion seemed to be a matter of concern. The audiencewore a look of interest, and, even after their first gaze of admirationand whispered criticism at the splendors of their new church, when atlength the clergyman entered to begin the service, a ripple ofexcitement swept across the field of bonnets until there was almost amurmur as of rustling cornfields within the many colored walls of St. John's. 

In a remote pew, hidden under a gallery of the transept, two personslooked on with especial interest. The number of strangers who crowded inafter them forced them to sit closely together, and their low whispersof comment were unheard by their neighbors. Before the service beganthey talked in a secular tone. 

"Wharton's window is too high-toned, " said the man. 

"You all said it would be like Aladdin's, " murmured the woman. 

"Yes, but he throws away his jewels, " rejoined the man. "See the bigprophet over the arch; he looks as though he wanted to come down--and Ithink he ought. "

"Did Michael Angelo ever take lessons of Mr. Wharton?" asked the womanseriously, looking up at the figures high above the pulpit. 

"He was only a prophet, " answered her companion, and, looking in anotherdirection, next asked:

"Who is the angel of Paradise, in the dove-colored wings, sliding up themain aisle?"

"That! O, you know her! It is Miss Leonard. She is lovely, but she isonly an angel of Paris. "

"I never saw her before in my life, " he replied; "but I know her bonnetwas put on in the Lord's honor for the first time this morning. "

"Women should take their bonnets off at the church door, as Mussulmen dotheir shoes, " she answered. 

"Don't turn Mahommedan, Esther. To be a Puritan is bad enough. Thebonnets match the decorations. "

"Pity the transepts are not finished!" she continued, gazing up at thebare scaffolding opposite. 

"You are lucky to have any thing finished, " he rejoined. "Since Hazardgot here every thing is turned upside down; all the plans are changed. He and Wharton have taken the bit in their teeth, and the churchcommittee have got to pay for whatever damage is done. "

"Has Mr. Hazard voice enough to fill the church?" she asked. 

"Watch him, and see how well he'll do it. Here he comes, and he will hitthe right pitch on his first word. "

The organ stopped, the clergyman appeared, and the talkers were silentuntil the litany ended and the organ began again. Under the prolongedrustle of settling for the sermon, more whispers passed. 

"He is all eyes, " murmured Esther; and it was true that at thisdistance the preacher seemed to be made up of two eyes and a voice, soslight and delicate was his frame. Very tall, slender and dark, histhin, long face gave so spiritual an expression to his figure that thegreat eyes seemed to penetrate like his clear voice to every soul withintheir range. 

"Good art!" muttered her companion. 

"We are too much behind the scenes, " replied she. 

"It is a stage, like any other, " he rejoined; "there should be an_entre-acte_ and drop-scene. Wharton could design one with a lastjudgment. "

"He would put us into it, George, and we should be among the wicked. "

"I am a martyr, " answered George shortly. 

The clergyman now mounted his pulpit and after a moment's pause said inhis quietest manner and clearest voice:

"He that hath ears to hear, let him hear. "

An almost imperceptible shiver passed through Esther's figure. 

"Wait! he will slip in the humility later, " muttered George. 

On the contrary, the young preacher seemed bent on letting no trace ofhumility slip into his first sermon. Nothing could be simpler than hismanner, which, if it had a fault, sinned rather on the side of plainnessand monotony than of rhetoric, but he spoke with the air of one who hada message to deliver which he was more anxious to give as he receivedthan to add any thing of his own; he meant to repeat it all without anattempt to soften it. He took possession of his flock with a generaladvertisement that he owned every sheep in it, white or black, and toshow that there could be no doubt on the matter, he added a generalclaim to right of property in all mankind and the universe. He did thisin the name and on behalf of the church universal, but there wasself-assertion in the quiet air with which he pointed out the nature ofhis title, and then, after sweeping all human thought and will into hisstrong-box, shut down the lid with a sharp click, and bade his audiencekneel. 

The sermon dealt with the relations of religion to society. It began byclaiming that all being and all thought rose by slow gradations toGod, --ended in Him, for Him--existed only through Him and because ofbeing His. 

The form of act or thought mattered nothing. The hymns of David, theplays of Shakespeare, the metaphysics of Descartes, the crimes ofBorgia, the virtues of Antonine, the atheism of yesterday and thematerialism of to-day, were all emanations of divine thought, doingtheir appointed work. It was the duty of the church to deal with themall, not as though they existed through a power hostile to the deity, but as instruments of the deity to work out his unrevealed ends. Thepreacher then went on to criticise the attitude of religion towardsscience. "If there is still a feeling of hostility between them, " hesaid, "it is no longer the fault of religion. There have been times whenthe church seemed afraid, but she is so no longer. Analyze, dissect, useyour microscope or your spectrum till the last atom of matter isreached; reflect and refine till the last element of thought is madeclear; the church now knows with the certainty of science what she onceknew only by the certainty of faith, that you will find enthroned behindall thought and matter only one central idea, --that idea which thechurch has never ceased to embody, --I AM! Science like religion kneelsbefore this mystery; it can carry itself back only to this simpleconsciousness of existence. I AM is the starting point and goal ofmetaphysics and logic, but the church alone has pointed out from thebeginning that this starting-point is not human but divine. Thephilosopher says--I am, and the church scouts his philosophy. Sheanswers:--No! you are NOT, you have no existence of your own. You wereand are and ever will be only a part of the supreme I AM, of which thechurch is the emblem. "

In this symbolic expression of his right of property in their souls andbodies, perhaps the preacher rose a little above the heads of hisaudience. Most of his flock were busied with a kind of speculation soforeign to that of metaphysics that they would have been puzzled toexplain what was meant by Descartes' famous COGITO ERGO SUM, on whichthe preacher laid so much stress. They would have preferred to put thefact of their existence on almost any other experience in life, as that"I have five millions, " or, "I am the best-dressed woman in thechurch, --therefore I am somebody. " The fact of self-consciousness wouldnot have struck them as warranting a claim even to a good socialposition, much less to a share in omnipotence; they knew the trait onlyas a sign of bad manners. Yet there were at least two persons among theglorified chrysanthemums of St. John's Garden this day, who as thesermon closed and the organ burst out again, glanced at each other witha smile as though they had enjoyed their lecture. 

"Good!" said the man. "He takes hold. "

"I hope he believes it all, " said his companion. 

"Yes, he has put his life into the idea, " replied the man. "Even atcollege he would have sent us all off to the stake with a sweet smile, for the love of Christ and the glory of the English Episcopal Church. "

The crowd soon began to pour slowly out of the building and the twoobservers were swept along with the rest until at length they foundthemselves outside, and strolled down the avenue. A voice from behindstopped them. 

"Esther!" it called. 

Esther turned and greeted the caller as aunt. She was a woman of aboutfifty, still rather handsome, but with features to which time had givenan expression of character and will that harmonized only with a manner alittle abrupt and decided. She had the air of a woman who knew her ownmind and commonly had her own way. 

"Well, Esther, I am glad to see you taking George to church. Has hebehaved himself?"

"You are wrong again, Aunt Sarah, " said George; "it is I who have beentaking Esther to church. I thought it was worth seeing. "

"Church is always worth seeing, George, and I hope your friend Mr. Hazard's sermon has done you good. "

"It did me good to see Wharton there, " answered George; "he looked asthough it were a first representation, and he were in a stage box. Hazard and he ought to have appeared before the curtain, hand in hand, and made little speeches. I felt like calling them out. "

"What did you think of it, Esther?" asked her aunt. 

"I thought it very entertaining, Aunt Sarah. I felt like a butterfly ina tulip bed. Mr. Hazard's eyes are wonderful. "

"I shall never get you two to be reverential, " said her aunt sternly. "It was the best sermon I ever heard, and I would like to hear youanswer it, George, and make your answer as little scientific as youcan. "

"Aunt Sarah, I never answered any one in my life, not even you, orEsther, or the man who said that my fossil bird was a crocodile. Why doyou want me to answer him?"

"Because I don't believe you can. "

"I can't. I am a professor of paleontology at the college, and I answerquestions about bones. You must get my colleague who does themetaphysics to answer Hazard's sermon. Hazard and I have had it outfifty times, and discussed the whole subject till night reeled, but wenever got within shouting distance of each other. He might as well havestood on the earth, and I on the nearest planet, and bawled across. Sowe have given it up. "

"You mean that you were beaten, " rejoined his aunt. "I am glad you feelit, though I always knew it was so. After all, Mr. Hazard has got moresaints on his church walls than he will ever see in his audience, thoughnot such pretty ones. I never saw so many lovely faces and dressestogether. Esther, how is your father to-day?"

"Not very well, aunt. He wants to see you. Come home with us and help usto amuse him. "

So talking, all three walked along the avenue to 42d Street, and turningdown it, at length entered one of the houses about half way between theavenues. Up-stairs in a sunny room fitted up as a library and largeenough to be handsome, they found the owner, William Dudley, a man ofsixty or thereabouts, sitting in an arm-chair before the fire, trying toread a foreign review in which he took no interest. He moved with anappearance of effort, as though he were an invalid, but his voice wasstrong and his manner cheerful. 

"I hoped you would all come. This is an awful moment. Tell me instantly, Sarah; is St. Stephen a success?"

"Immense! St. Stephen and St. Wharton too. The loveliest clergyman, thesweetest church, the highest-toned sermon and the lowest-toned walls, "said she. "Even George owns that he has no criticisms to make. "

"Aunt Sarah tells the loftiest truth, Uncle William, " said theprofessor; "every Christian emblem about the church is superlativelycorrect, but paleontologically it is a fraud. Wharton and Hazard did theemblems, and I supplied them with antediluvian beasts which were allright when I drew them, but Wharton has played the devil with them, andI don't believe he knows the difference between a saurian and a crab. Icould not recognize one of my own offspring. "

"And how did it suit you, Esther?"

"I am charmed, " replied his daughter. "Only it certainly does come justa little near being an opera-house. Mr. Hazard looks horribly likeMeyerbeer's Prophet. He ordered us about in a fine tenor voice, with hiseyes, and told us that we belonged to him, and if we did not behaveourselves he would blow up the church and us in it. I thought everymoment we should see his mother come out of the front pews, and have ascene with him. If the organ had played the march, the effect would havebeen complete, but I felt there was something wanting. "

"It was the sexton, " said the professor; "he ought to have had amedieval costume. I must tell Wharton to-night to invent one for him. Hazard has asked me to come round to his rooms, because he thinks I aman unprejudiced observer and will tell him the exact truth. Now what amI to say?"

"Tell him, " said the aunt, "that he looked like a Christian martyrdefying the beasts in the amphitheater, and George, you are one of them. Between you and your Uncle William I wonder how Esther and I keep anyreligion at all. "

"It is not enough to save you, Aunt Sarah, " replied the professor. "Youmight just as well go with us, for if the Church is half right, youhaven't a chance. "

"Just now I must go with my husband, who is not much better than you, "she replied. "He must have his luncheon, church or no church. Good-by. "

So she departed, notifying Esther that the next day there was to be ather house a meeting of the executive committee of the children'shospital, which Esther must be careful to attend. 

When she was out of the room the professor turned to his uncle and said:"Seriously, Uncle William, I wish you knew Stephen Hazard. He is apleasant fellow in or out of the pulpit, and would amuse you. If you andEsther will come to tea some afternoon at my rooms, I will get Hazardand Wharton and Aunt Sarah there to meet you. "

"Will he preach at me?" asked Mr. Dudley. 

"Never in his life, " replied the professor warmly. "He is the mostrational, unaffected parson in the world. He likes fun as much as you orany other man, and is interested in every thing. "

"I will come if Esther will let me, " said Mr. Dudley. "What have you tosay about it, Esther?"

"I don't think it would hurt you, father. George's building has anelevator. "

"I didn't mean that, you watch-dog. I meant to ask whether you wanted togo to George's tea party?"

"I should like it of all things. Mr. Hazard won't hurt me, and I alwayslike to meet Mr. Wharton. "

"Then I will ask both of them this evening for some day next week or theweek after, and will let you know, " said George. 

"Is he easily shocked?" asked Mr. Dudley. "Am I to do the old-schoolPuritan with him, or what?"

"Stephen Hazard, " replied the professor, "is as much a man of the worldas you or I. He is only thirty-five; we were at college together, tookour degrees together, went abroad at the same time, and to the sameGerman university. He had then more money than I, and traveled longer, went to the East, studied a little of every thing, lived some time inParis, where he discovered Wharton, and at last some few years ago camehome to take a church at Cincinnati, where he made himself a power. Ithought he made a mistake in leaving there to come to St. John's, andwrote him so. I thought if he came here he would find that he had noregular community to deal with but just an Arab horde, and that it wasnonsense to talk of saving the souls of New Yorkers who have no souls tobe saved. But he thought it his duty to take the offer. Aunt Sarah hitit right when she called him a Christian martyr in the amphitheater. Atcollege, we used to call him St. Stephen. He had this same idea that thechurch was every thing, and that every thing belonged to the church. When I told him that he was a common nuisance, and that I had to workfor him like a church-warden, he laughed as though it were a joke, andseriously told me it was all right, and he didn't mind my skepticism atall. I know he was laughing at me this morning, when he made me go tochurch for the first time in ten years to hear that sermon which nottwenty people there understood. "

"One always has to pay for one's friend's hobbies, " said Mr. Dudley. "Iam glad he has had a success. If we keep a church we ought to do it inthe best style. What will you give me for my pew?"

"I never sat in a worse, " growled Strong. 

"I'll not change it then, " said Mr. Dudley. "I'll make Esther use it tomortify her pride. "

"Better make it over to the poor of the parish, " said the professor;"you will get no thanks for it even from them. "

Mr. Dudley laughed as though it were no affair of his, and in fact henever sat in his pew, and never expected to do so; he had no taste forchurch-going. A lawyer in moderate practice, with active interest inpublic affairs, when the civil war broke out he took a commission ascaptain in a New York regiment, and, after distinguishing himself, wasbrought home, a colonel, with a bullet through his body and a saber cutacross his head. He recovered his health, or as much of it as a man canexpect to recover after such treatment, and went back to the law, butcoming by inheritance into a property large enough to make himindifferent to his profession, and having an only child whose mother waslong since dead, he amused the rest of his life by spoiling this girl. Esther was now twenty-five years old, and for fifteen years had beenabsolute mistress of her father's house. Her Aunt Sarah, known in NewYork as Mrs. John Murray of 53d Street, was the only person of whom shewas a little--a very little--afraid. Of her Cousin George she was not inthe least afraid, although George Strong spoke with authority in theworld when he cared to speak at all. He was rich, and his professorshipwas little more to him than a way of spending money. He had no parents, and no relations besides the Dudleys and the Murrays. Alone in theworld, George Strong looked upon himself as having in Esther a youngersister whom he liked, and a sort of older sister, whom he also liked, inhis Aunt Sarah. 

When, after lunching with the Dudleys, Professor Strong walked downFifth Avenue to his club, he looked, to the thousand people whom hepassed, like what he was, an intelligent man, with a figure made foraction, an eye that hated rest, and a manner naturally sympathetic. Hisforehead was so bald as to give his face a look of strong character, which a dark beard rather helped to increase. He was a popular fellow, known as George by whole gangs of the roughest miners in Nevada, wherehe had worked for years as a practical geologist, and it would have beenhard to find in America, Europe, or Asia, a city in which some one wouldnot have smiled at the mention of his name, and asked where George wasgoing to turn up next. 

He kept his word that evening with his friend Hazard. At nine o'clock hewas at the house, next door to St. John's church, where the newclergyman was trying to feel himself at home. In a large library, withbook-cases to the ceiling, and books lying in piles on the floor; withpictures, engravings and etchings leaning against the books and thewalls, and every sort of literary encumbrance scattered in the way ofheedless feet; in the midst of confusion confounded, Mr. Hazard wasstretched on a sofa trying to read, but worn out by fatigue andexcitement. Though his chaos had not settled into order, it was easy toread his character from his surroundings. The books were not alldivinity. There were classics of every kind, even to a collection ofEastern literature; a mass of poetry in all languages; not a few novels;and what was most conspicuous, an elaborate collection of illustratedworks on art, Egyptian, Greek, Roman, Medieval, Mexican, Japanese, Indian, and whatever else had come in his way. Add to this a shelf ofmusic, and then--construct the tall, slender, large-eyed, thin-nosed, dark-haired figure lying exhausted on the sofa. 

He rose to greet Strong with a laugh like a boy, and cried: "Well, skeptic, how do the heathen rage?"

"The heathen are all right, " replied Strong. "The orthodox are theragers. "

"Never mind the orthodox, " said Hazard. "I will look after them. Tell meabout the Pagans. I felt like St. Paul preaching at Athens the God whomthey ignorantly worshiped. "

"I took with me the sternest little Pagan I know, my cousin, EstherDudley, " said Strong; "and the only question she asked was whether youbelieved it all. "

"She hit the mark at the first shot, " answered Hazard. "I must make themall ask that question. Tell me about your cousin. Who is she? Her namesounds familiar. "

"As familiar as Hawthorne, " replied Strong. "One of his tales is calledafter it. Her father comes from a branch of the old Puritan Dudleys, andtook a fancy to the name when he met it in Hawthorne's story. You neverheard of them before because you have been always away from New York, and when you were here they happened to be away. You know that half adozen women run this city, and my aunt, Mrs. Murray, is one of thehalf-dozen. She is training Esther to take her place when she retires. Iwant you to know my Uncle Dudley and my cousin. I am going to have alittle tea-party for them in my rooms, and you must help me with it. "

Mr. Hazard asked only to have it put off until the week after the nextbecause of his engagements, and hardly had they fixed the day whenanother caller appeared. 

He was a man of their own age, so quiet and subdued in manner, and sodelicate in feature, that he would have been unnoticed in any ordinarygroup, and shoved aside into a corner. He seemed to face life with aneffort; his light-brown eyes had an uneasy look as though they wanted torest on something that should be less hard and real than what they saw. He was not handsome; his mouth was a little sensual; his yellowish beardwas ragged. He was apt to be silent until his shyness wore off, when hebecame a rapid, nervous talker, full of theories and schemes, which hechanged from one day to another, but which were always quite completeand convincing for the moment. At times he had long fits of moodinessand would not open his mouth for days. At other times he sought societyand sat up all night talking, planning, discussing, drinking, smoking, living on bread and cheese or whatever happened to be within reach, andsleeping whenever he happened to feel in the humor for it. Rule ormethod he had none, and his friends had for years given up the attemptto control him. They took it for granted that he would soon kill himselfwith his ill-regulated existence. Hazard thought that his lungs wouldgive way, and Strong insisted that his brain was the weak spot, and noone ventured to hope that he would long hold out, but he lived on indefiance of them. 

"Good evening, Wharton, " said the clergyman. "I have been trying to findout from Strong what the heathen think of me. Tell us now the art viewof the case. How are you satisfied?"

"Tell me what you were sketching in church, " said Strong. "Was it notthe new martyrdom of St. Stephen?"

"No, " answered Wharton quietly. "It was my own. I found I could not lookup; I knew how bad my own work was, and I could not stand seeing it; soI drew my own martyrdom rather than make a scandal by leaving thechurch. "

"Did you hear my sermon?" asked the clergyman. 

"I don't remember, " answered Wharton vaguely; "what was it about?"

Strong and Hazard broke into a laugh which roused him to the energy ofself-defense. 

"I never could listen, " he said. "It is a slow and stupid faculty. Anartist's business is only to see, and to-day I could see nothing but myown things which are all bad. The whole church is bad. It is notaltogether worth a bit of Japanese enamel that I have brought round herethis evening to show Strong. "

He searched first in one pocket, then in another, until he found what hewanted in the pocket of his overcoat, and a warm discussion at oncebegan between him and Strong, who declared that he had a better piece. 

"Mine was given me by a Daimio, in Kiusiu, " said Strong. "It is the bestold bit you ever saw. Come round to my rooms a week from to-morrow atfive o'clock in the afternoon, and I will show you all my new japs. TheDudleys are coming to see them, and my aunt Mrs. Murray, and Hazard haspromised to come. "

"I saw you had Miss Dudley with you at church this morning, " saidWharton, still absorbed in study of his enamel, and quite unconscious ofhis host's evident restlessness. 

"Ah! then you could see Miss Dudley!" cried the clergyman, who could notforgive the abrupt dismissal of his own affairs by the two men, and waseager to bring the talk back to his church. 

"I can always see Miss Dudley, " said Wharton quietly. 

"Why?" asked Hazard. 

"She is interesting, " replied the painter. "She has a style of her own, and I never can quite make up my mind whether to like it or not. "

"It is the first time I ever knew you to hesitate before a style, " saidHazard. 

"I hesitate before every thing American, " replied Wharton, beginning toshow a shade of interest in what he was talking of. "I don't know--youdon't know--and I never yet met any man who could tell me, whetherAmerican types are going to supplant the old ones, or whether they areto come to nothing for want of ideas. Miss Dudley is one of the mostmarked American types I ever saw. "

"What are the signs of the most marked American type you ever saw?"asked Hazard. 

"In the first place, she has a bad figure, which she makes answer for agood one. She is too slight, too thin; she looks fragile, willowy, asthe cheap novels call it, as though you could break her in halves like aswitch. She dresses to suit her figure and sometimes overdoes it. Herfeatures are imperfect. Except her ears, her voice, and her eyes whichhave a sort of brown depth like a trout brook, she has no very goodpoints. "

"Then why do you hesitate?" asked Strong, who was not entirely pleasedwith this cool estimate of his cousin's person. 

"There is the point where the subtlety comes in, " replied the painter. "Miss Dudley interests me. I want to know what she can make of life. Shegives one the idea of a lightly-sparred yacht in mid-ocean; unexpected;you ask yourself what the devil she is doing there. She sails gaylyalong, though there is no land in sight and plenty of rough weathercoming. She never read a book, I believe, in her life. She tries topaint, but she is only a second rate amateur and will never be any thingmore, though she has done one or two things which I give you my word Iwould like to have done myself. She picks up all she knows without aneffort and knows nothing well, yet she seems to understand whatever issaid. Her mind is as irregular as her face, and both have the samepeculiarity. I notice that the lines of her eyebrows, nose and mouth allend with a slight upward curve like a yacht's sails, which gives a kindof hopefulness and self-confidence to her expression. Mind and face havethe same curves. "

"Is that your idea of our national type?" asked Strong. "Why don't youput it into one of your saints in the church, and show what you mean byAmerican art?"

"I wish I could, " said the artist. "I have passed weeks trying to catchit. The thing is too subtle, and it is not a grand type, like what weare used to in the academies. But besides the riddle, I like Miss Dudleyfor herself. The way she takes my brutal criticisms of her paintingmakes my heart bleed. I mean to go down on my knees one of these days, and confess to her that I know nothing about it; only if her style isright, my art is wrong. "

"What sort of a world does this new deity of yours belong to?" asked theclergyman. 

"Not to yours, " replied Wharton quickly. "There is nothing medievalabout her. If she belongs to any besides the present, it is to the nextworld which artists want to see, when paganism will come again and wecan give a divinity to every waterfall. I tell you, Hazard, I am sick atheart about our church work; it is a failure. Never till this morningdid I feel the whole truth, but the instant I got inside the doors itflashed upon me like St. Paul's great light. The thing does not belongto our time or feelings. "

The conversation having thus come round to the subject which Mr. Hazardwanted to discuss, the three men plunged deep into serious talk whichlasted till after midnight had struck from the neighboring church. 

_Chapter II_

Punctually the next day at three o'clock, Esther Dudley appeared in heraunt's drawing-room where she found half a dozen ladies chatting, orlooking at Mr. Murray's pictures in the front parlor. The lady of thehouse sat in an arm-chair before the fire in an inner room, talking withtwo other ladies of the board, one of whom, with an aggressive andsuperior manner, seemed finding fault with every thing except the MiddleAges and Pericles. 

"A tailor who builds a palace to live in, " said she, "is a vulgartailor, and an artist who paints the tailor and his palace as though hewere painting a doge of Venice, is a vulgar artist. "

"But, Mrs. Dyer, " replied her hostess coldly, "I don't believe there wasany real difference between a doge of Venice and a doge of New York. They all made fortunes more or less by cheating their neighbors, andwhen they were rich they wanted portraits. Some one told them to sendfor Mr. Tizian or Mr. Wharton, and he made of them all the gentlementhere ever were. "

Mrs. Dyer frowned a protest against this heresy. "Tizian would haverespected his art, " said she; "these New York men are making money. "

"For my part, " said Mrs. Murray as gently as she could, "I am gratefulto any one who likes beautiful things and is willing to pay for them, and I hope the artists will make them as beautiful as they can for themoney. The number is small. "

With this she rose, and moving to the table, called her meeting toorder. The ladies seated themselves in a business-like way round about, and listened with masculine gravity to a long written report on the workdone or needing to be done at the Children's Hospital. Debate rose onthe question of putting in a new kitchen range and renewing theplumbing. Mrs. Dyer took the floor, or the table, very much to herself, dealing severely with the treatment of the late kitchen range, andbringing numerous complaints against the matron, the management and thehospital in general. There was an evident look of weariness on the partof the board when she began, but not until after a two hours' sessiondid she show signs of exhaustion and allow a vote to be taken. Thenecessary work was then rapidly done, and at last Mrs. Murray, referringin a business-like way to her notes, remarked that she had nothing moreto suggest except that Mr. Hazard, the new clergyman at St. John's, should be elected as a member of their visiting committee. 

"Do we want more figure-heads there?" asked Mrs. Dyer. "Every day andevery hour of Mr. Hazard's time ought to be devoted to his church. Whatwe want is workers. We have no one to look after the children's clothesand go down into the kitchen. All our visitors are good for is to amusethe children for half an hour now and then by telling them stories. "

Mrs. Murray explained that the election was rather a matter of custom;that the rector of St. John's always had been a member of theircommittee, and it would look like a personal slight if they left himoff; so the vote was passed and the meeting broke up. When the last echoof rapid talk and leave-taking had ceased, Mrs. Murray sat down againbefore the fire with the air of one who has tried to keep her temper andhas not thoroughly satisfied her ambition. 

"Mrs. Dyer is very trying, " she said to Esther who stayed after theothers went; "but there is always one such woman on every board. Ishould not care except that she gives me a dreadful feeling that I amlike her. I hope I'm not, but I know I am. "

"You're not, Aunt Sarah!" replied Esther. "She can stick pins faster anddeeper than a dozen such as you. What makes me unhappy is that herspitefulness goes so deep. Her dig at me about telling stories to thechildren seemed to cut me up by the roots. All I do is to tell themstories. "

"I hope she will never make herself useful in that way, " rejoined Mrs. Murray grimly. "She would frighten the poor little things intoconvulsions. Don't let her worry you about usefulness. One of these daysyou will have to be useful whether you like it or not, and now you aredoing enough if you are only ornamental. I know you will hold yourtongue at the board meetings, and that is real usefulness. "

"Very well, aunt! I can do that. And I can go on cutting out dolls'clothes for the children, though Mrs. Dyer will complain that my dollsare not sufficiently dressed. I wish I did not respect people fordespising me. "

"If we did not, there would be no Mrs. Dyers, " answered her aunt. "Sheis a terrible woman. I feel always like a sort of dry lamp-wick when shehas left me. Never mind! I have something else now to talk about. I wantyou to make yourself useful in a harder path. "

"Not another Charity Board, aunt, " said Esther rather piteously. 

"Worse!" said Mrs. Murray. "A charity girl! Thirty years ago I had adear friend who was also a friend of your poor mother's. Her name wasCatherine Cortright. She married a man named Brooke, and they went west, and they kept going further and further west until at length theyreached Colorado, where she died, leaving one daughter, a child of tenyears old. The father married again and had a new family. Very lately hehas died, leaving the girl with her step-mother and half-sisters. She isunhappy there; they seem to have brought her up in a strict Presbyteriankind of way, and she does not like it. Mr. Murray is an executor underher father's will, and when she comes of age in a few months, she willhave a little independent property. She has asked me to look after hertill then, and is coming on at once to make me a visit. "

"You are always doing something for somebody, " said Esther. "What do youexpect her to be, and how long will she stay?"

"I don't expect any thing, my dear, and my heart sinks whenever I thinkof her. My letters say she is amiable and pretty; but if she is arattlesnake, I must take her in, and you must help to amuse her. "

"I will do all I can, " replied Esther. "Don't be low about it. She can'tbe as bad as Mrs. Dyer even if she is a rattlesnake. If she is pretty, and turns out well, we will make George marry her. "

"I wish we might, " said her aunt. 

Esther went her way and thought no more of the orphan, but Mrs. Murraycarried the weight of all New York on her mind. Not the least of heranxieties was the condition of her brother-in-law, Esther's father. Hewas now a confirmed invalid, grateful for society and amusement, andalmost every day he expected his sister-in-law to take him to drive, ifthe weather was tolerable. The tax was severe, but she bore it withheroism, and his gratitude sustained her. When she came for him the nextmorning, she found him reading as usual, and waiting for her. "I wasjust wondering, " said he, "whether I could read five minutes longerwithout a stimulant. Do you know that indiscriminate reading is afiendish torture. No convict could stand it. I seldom take up a book inthese days without thinking how much more amusing it would be to joltoff on a bright day at the head of a funeral procession. Between the twoways of amusing one's-self, I am principled against books. "

"You have a very rough way of expressing your tastes, " said Mrs. Murraywith a shiver, as they got into her carriage. "Do you know, I nevercould understand the humor of joking about funerals. "

"That surprises me, " said Mr. Dudley. "A good funeral needs a joke. Ifmine is not more amusing than my friends', I would rather not go to it. The kind of funeral I am invited to has no sort of charm. Indeed, Idon't know that I was ever asked to one that seemed to me to show anelegant hospitality in the host. "

"If you can't amuse me better, William, I will drive you home again, "said his sister-in-law. 

"Not quite yet. I have something more to say on this business offunerals which is just now not a little on my mind. "

"Are you joking now, or serious?" asked Mrs. Murray. 

"I cannot myself see any humor in what I have to say, " replied Mr. Dudley; "but I am told that even professional humorists seldom enjoyjokes at their own expense. The case is this. My doctors, who give metheir word of honor that they are not more ignorant than the average oftheir profession, told me long ago that I might die at any moment. Iknew then that I must be quite safe, and thought no more about it. Theirfirst guess was wrong. Instead of going off suddenly and without notice, as a colonel of New York volunteers should, I began last summer to gooff by bits, as though I were ashamed to be seen running away. This timethe doctors won't say any thing, which alarms me. I have watched myselfand them for some weeks until I feel pretty confident that I had betterget ready to start. All through life I have been thinking how I couldbest get out of it, and on the whole I am well enough satisfied withthis way, except on Esther's account, and it is about her that I want toconsult you. "

Mrs. Murray knew her brother-in-law too well to irritate him bycondolence or sympathy. She said only: "Why be anxious? Esther can takecare of herself. Perhaps she will marry, but if not, she has nothing tofear. The unmarried women nowadays are better off than the marriedones. "

"Oh!" said Mr. Dudley with his usual air of deep gravity; "it is notshe, but her husband who is on my mind. I have hated the fellow all hislife. About twice a year I have treacherously stabbed him in the back ashe was going out of my own front door. I knew that he would interferewith my comfort if I let him get a footing. After all he was always apoor creature, and did not deserve to live. My conscience does notreproach me. But now, when I am weak, and his ghost rises in anirrepressible manner, and grins at me on my own threshold, I begin tofeel a sort of pity, mingled with contempt. I want to show charity tohim before I die. "

"What on earth do you mean?" asked his sister-in-law with an impatientgroan. "For thirty years I have been trying to understand you, and yougrow worse every year. "

"Now, I am not surprised to hear you say so. Any sympathy for thehusband is unusual, no doubt, yet I am not prepared to admit that it isunintelligible. You go too far. "

"Take your own way, William. When you are tired, let me know what it isthat you think I can do. "

"I want you to find the poor fellow, and tell him that I bear him noreal ill-will. "

"You want me to find a husband for Esther?"

"If you have nothing better to do. I have looked rather carefullythrough her list of friends, and, taking out the dancing men who don'tcount, I see nobody who would answer, except perhaps her Cousin George, and to marry him would be cold-blooded. She might as well marry you. "

"I have thought a great deal about that match, as you know, " repliedMrs. Murray. "It would not answer. I could get over the cousinship, ifI must, but Esther will want a husband to herself and George is avagabond. He could never make her happy. "

"George had the ill-luck, " said Mr. Dudley, "to inherit a small spark ofsomething almost like genius; and a little weak genius mixed in with alittle fortune, goes a long way towards making a jack-o-lantern. Stillwe won't exaggerate George's genius. After all there is not enough of itto prevent his being the best of the lot. "

"He could not hold her a week, " said Mrs. Murray; "nor she him. "

"I own that on his wedding day he would probably be in Dakota flirtingwith the bones of a fossil monkey, " said Mr. Dudley thoughtfully; "butwhat better can you suggest?"

"I suggest that you should leave it alone, and let Esther take care ofher own husband, " replied Mrs. Murray. "Women must take their chance. Itis what they are for. Marriage makes no real difference in their lot. All the contented women are fools, and all the discontented ones want tobe men. Women are a blunder in the creation, and must take theconsequences. If Esther is sensible she will never marry; but no womanis sensible, so she will marry without consulting us. "

"You are always eloquent on this subject, " said Mr. Dudley. "Why haveyou never applied for a divorce from poor Murray?"

"Because Mr. Murray happens to be one man in a million, " answered she. "Nothing on earth would induce me to begin over again and take such arisk a second time, with life before me. As for bringing about amarriage, I would almost rather bring about a murder. "

"Poor Esther!" said he gloomily. "She has been brought up among men, andis not used to harness. If things go wrong she will rebel, and a womanwho rebels is lost. "

"Esther has known too many good men ever to marry a bad one, " shereplied. 

"I am not sure of that, " he answered. "When I am out of the way she willfeel lonely, and any man who wants her very much can probably get her. Joking apart, it is there I want your help. Keep an eye on her. Yourprinciples will let you prevent a marriage, even though you are notallowed to make one. "

"I hope she will not want my help in either way, " said Mrs. Murray; "butif she does, I will remember what you say--though I would rather go outto service at five dollars a week than do this kind of work. Do you knowthat I have already a girl on my hands? Poor Catherine Brooke's daughteris coming to-morrow from Colorado to be under my care for the next fewmonths till she is of age. She never has been to the East, and I expectto have my hands full. "

"If I had known it, " said he, "I think I would have selected some wiserwoman to look after Esther. "

"You are too encouraging, " replied Mrs. Murray. "If I talk longer withyou I shall have a crying fit. Suppose we change the subject and amuseourselves in a cheerfuller way. "

They finished their drive talking of less personal matters, but Mrs. Murray, after leaving her brother-in-law at his house, went back to herown with spirits depressed to a point as low as any woman past fiftycares to enjoy. She had reason to know that Mr. Dudley was not mistakenabout his symptoms, and that not many months could pass before that musthappen which he foresaw. He could find some relief in talking and evenin jesting about it, but she could only with difficulty keep herselffrom an outburst of grief. She had every reason to feel keenly. To loseone's oldest friends is a trial that human nature never accustoms itselfto bear with satisfaction, even when the loss does not double one'sresponsibilities; but in this case Mrs. Murray, as she grew old, saw herniece Esther about to come on her hands at the same time when a wildgirl from the prairie was on the road to her very door, and she had nosufficient authority to control either of them. For a woman withoutchildren of her own, to act this part of matron to an extemporizedgirls' college might be praise-worthy, but could not bring repose ofmind or body. 

Mrs. Murray was still wider awake to this truth when she went the nextday to the Grand Central Station to wait for the arrival of her Coloradoorphan. The Chicago express glided in as gracefully and silently asthough it were in quite the best society, and had run a thousand milesor so only for gentle exercise before dining at Delmonico's and passingan evening at the opera. Among the crowd of passengers who passed outwere several women whose appearance gave Mrs. Murray a pang of fear, butat length she caught sight of one who pleased her fastidious eye. "Ihope it is she, " broke from her lips as the girl came towards her, and amoment later her hope was gratified. She drew a breath of relief thatmade her light-hearted. Whatever faults the girl might have, want ofcharm was not among them. As she raised her veil, the engine-stoker, leaning from his engine above them, nodded approval. In spite of dustand cinders, the fatigue and exposure of two thousand miles or so oftravel, the girl was fresh as a summer morning, and her complexion waslike the petals of a sweetbrier rose. Her dark blue woollen dress, evidently made by herself, soothed Mrs. Murray's anxieties morecompletely than though it had come by the last steamer from the bestmodiste in Paris. 

"Is it possible you have come all the way alone?" she asked, lookingabout with lurking suspicion of possible lovers still to be revealed. 

"Only from Chicago, " answered Catherine; "I stopped awhile there torest, but I had friends to take care of me. "

"And you were not homesick or lonely?"

"No! I made friends on the cars. I have been taking care of a sick ladyand her three children, who are all on their way to Europe, and wantedto pay my expenses if I would go with them. "

"I don't wonder!" said Mrs. Murray with an unusual burst of sympathy. 

No sooner had they fairly reached the house than Esther came to see thestranger and found her aunt in high spirits. "She is as natural andsweet as a flower, " said Mrs. Murray. "To be sure she has a few Westerntricks; she says she stopped awhile at Chicago, and that she has a raftof things in her trunks, and she asks häow, and says äout; but so dohalf the girls in New York, and I will break her of it in a week so thatyou will never know she was not educated in Boston and finished inEurope. I was terribly afraid she would wear a linen duster andwater-waves. "

Catherine became a favorite on the spot. No one could resist her hazeleyes and the curve of her neck, or her pure complexion which had thetransparency of a Colorado sunrise. Her good nature was inexhaustible, and she occasionally developed a touch of sentiment which made Mr. Murray assert that she was the most dangerous coquette within hisexperience. Mr. Murray, who had a sound though uncultivated taste forpretty girls, succumbed to her charms, while George Strong, whose goodnature was very like her own, never tired of drawing her out andenjoying her comments on the new life about her. 

"What kind of a revolver do you carry?" asked George, gravely, at hisfirst interview with her; "do you like yours heavy, or say a 32 ball?"

"Don't mind him, Catherine, " said Mrs. Murray; "he is always making poorjokes. "

"Oh, but I'm not strong enough to use heavy shooting-irons, " repliedCatherine quite seriously. "I had a couple of light ones in my room athome, but father told me I could never hurt any thing with them, and Inever did. "

"Always missed your man?" asked George. 

"I never fired at a man but once. One night I took one of our herdersfor a thief and shot at him, but I missed, and just got laughed at for aweek. That was before we moved down to Denver, where we don't usepistols much. "

Strong felt a little doubt whether she was making fun of him or he ofher, and she never left him in perfect security on this point. 

"What is your name in Sioux, Catherine, " he would ask; "LaughingStrawberry, I suppose, or Jumping Turtle?"

"No!" she answered. "I have a very pretty name in Sioux. They call methe Sage Hen, because I am so quiet. I like it much better than my ownname. "

Strong was beaten at this game. She capped all his questions for himwith an air of such good faith as made him helpless. Whether it werereal or assumed, he could not make up his mind. He took a great fancy tothe Sage Hen, while she in her turn took a violent liking for Esther, asthe extremest contrast to herself. When Esther realized that thisproduct of Colorado was likely to be on her hands for several hoursevery day, she felt less amused than either Strong or Mr. Murray, forMiss Brooke's conversation, though entertaining as far as it went, hadnot the charm of variety. It was not long before her visits to Esther'sstudio became so frequent and so exhausting that Esther became desperateand felt that some relief must at any cost be found. The poor littleprairie flower found New York at first exciting; she felt shy andawkward among the swarms of strange people to whose houses Mrs. Murraysoon began to take her by way of breaking her in at once to the mannersof New York society; and whenever she could escape, she fled to Estherand her quiet studio, with the feelings of a bird to its nest. The onlydrawback to her pleasure there was that she had nothing to do; herreading seemed to have been entirely in books of a severely moral caste, and in consequence she could not be induced to open so much as amagazine. She preferred to chatter about herself and the people she met. Before a week had passed Esther felt that something must be done tolighten this burden, and it was then that, as we shall see, Mr. Hazardsuggested her using Catherine for a model. The idea might not have beenso easily accepted under other circumstances, but it seemed for themoment a brilliant one. 

As Wharton had said of Esther, she was but a second-rate amateur. Whether there was a living artist whom Wharton would have classed higherthan a first-rate amateur is doubtful. On his scale to be second-ratewas a fair showing. Esther had studied under good masters both abroadand at home. She had not the patience to be thorough, but who had? Sheasked this question of Mr. Wharton when he attacked her for bad drawing, and Wharton's answer left on her mind the impression that he was himselfthe only thorough artist in the world; yet others with whom she talkedhinted much the same thing of themselves. Esther at all events paintedmany canvases and panels, good or bad, some of which had been exhibitedand had even been sold, more perhaps owing to some trick of theimagination which she had put into them than to their technical merit. Yet into one work she had put her whole soul, and with success. This wasa portrait of her father, which that severe critic liked well enough tohang on the wall of his library, and which was admitted to have meritseven by Wharton, though he said that its unusual and rather masculinefirmness of handling was due to the subject and could never be repeated. 

Catherine was charmed to sit for her portrait. It was touching to seethe superstitious reverence with which this prairie child kneeled beforewhatever she supposed to be learned or artistic. She took it for grantedthat Esther's painting was wonderful; her only difficulty was tounderstand how a man so trivial as George Strong, could be a seriousprofessor, in a real university. She thought that Strong's taste forbric-à-brac was another of his jokes. He tried to educate her, and hadalmost succeeded when, in producing his last and most perfect bit ofJapanese lacquer, he said: "This piece, Catherine, is too pure for man. We pray to it. " Catherine sat as serious as eternity, but she believedin her heart that he was making fun of her. 

In this atmosphere, to sit for her portrait was happiness, because itmade her a part of her society. Esther was surprised to find what adifficult model she was, with liquid reflections of eyes, hair and skinthat would have puzzled Correggio. Of course she was to be painted asthe Sage Hen. George sent for sage brush, and got a stuffed sage hen, and photographs of sage-plains, to give Esther the local color for herpicture. 

_Chapter III_

Once a week, if she could, Esther passed an hour or two with thechildren at the hospital. This building had accommodations for sometwenty-five or thirty small patients, and as it was a private affair, the ladies managed it to please themselves. The children were given allthe sunlight that could be got into their rooms and all the toys andplaythings they could profitably destroy. As the doctors said that, withmost of them, amusement was all they would ever get out of life, anattempt was made to amuse them. One large room was fitted up for thepurpose, and the result was so satisfactory that Esther got morepleasure out of it than the children did. Here a crowd of littleinvalids, playing on the yellow floor or lying on couches, were alwayswaiting to be amused and longing to be noticed, and thought themselvesill-treated if at least one of the regular visitors did not appear everyday to hear of their pains and pleasures. Esther's regular task was totell them a story, and, learning from experience that she could doubleits effect by illustrating it, she was in the custom of drawing, as shewent on, pictures of her kings and queens, fairies, monkeys and lions, with amiable manners and the best moral characters. Thus drawing as shetalked, the story came on but slowly, and spread itself over weeks andmonths of time. 

On this Saturday afternoon Esther was at her work in the play-room, surrounded by a dozen or more children, with a cripple, tortured byhip-disease, lying at her side and clinging to her skirt, while a proudprincess, with red and white cheeks and voluminous robes, was makinglife bright with colored crayons and more highly colored adventures, when the door opened and Esther saw the Rev. Stephen Hazard, with heraunt, Mrs. Murray, on the threshold. 

Mr. Hazard was not to blame if the scene before him made a sudden andsharp picture on his memory. The autumn sun was coming in at thewindows; the room was warm and pleasant to look at; on a wide brickhearth, logs of hickory and oak were burning; two tall iron fire-dogssat up there on their hind legs and roasted their backs, animals inwhich the children were expected to take living interest because theyhad large yellow glass eyes through which the fire sparkled; with this, a group of small invalids whose faces and figures were stamped with themarks of organic disease; and in the center--Esther!

Mr. Hazard had come here this afternoon partly because he thought it hisduty, and partly because he wanted to create closer relations with aparishioner so likely to be useful as Mrs. Murray. He was miserable witha cold, and was weak with fatigue. His next sermon was turning out dulland disjointed. His building committee were interfering and quarrelingwith Wharton. A harsh north-west wind had set his teeth on edge andfilled his eyes with dust. Rarely had he found himself in a lessspiritual frame of mind than when he entered this room. The contrast wasoverwhelming. When Esther at first said quite decidedly that nothingwould induce her to go on with her story, he felt at once that this wasthe only thing necessary to his comfort, and made so earnest an appealthat she was forced to relent, though rather ungraciously, with alaughing notice that he must listen very patiently to her sermon as shehad listened to his. The half hour which he now passed among kings andqueens in tropical islands and cocoanut groves, with giants and talkingmonkeys, was one of peace and pleasure. He drew so good a monkey on acocoanut tree that the children shouted with delight, and Esthercomplained that his competition would ruin her market. She rose at lastto go, telling him that she was sorry to seem so harsh, but had sheknown that his pictures and stories were so much better than hers, shewould never have voted to make him a visitor. 

Mr. Hazard was flattered. He naturally supposed that a woman must havesome fine quality if she could interest Wharton and Strong, two menutterly different in character, and at the same time amuse sufferingchildren, and drag his own mind out of its deepest discouragement, without show of effort or consciousness of charm. In this atmosphere ofcharity, where all faiths were alike and all professions joined hands, the church and the world became one, and Esther was the best of allies;while to her eyes Mr. Hazard seemed a man of the world, with a talentfor drawing and a quick imagination, gentle with children, pleasantwith women, and fond of humor. She could not help thinking that if hewould but tell pleasant stories in the pulpit, and illustrate them on acelestial blackboard such as Wharton might design, church would be anagreeable place to pass one's Sunday mornings in. As for him, when shewent away with her aunt, he returned to his solitary dinner with a minddiverted from its current. He finished his sermon without an effort. Hefelt a sort of half-conscious hope that Esther would be again alistener, and that he might talk it over with her. The next morning helooked about the church and was disappointed at not seeing her there. This young man was used to flattery; he had been sickened with it, especially by the women of his congregation; he thought there wasnothing of this nature against which he was not proof; yet he resentedEsther Dudley's neglect to flatter him by coming to his sermon. Herabsence was a hint that at least one of his congregation did not care tohear him preach a second time. 

Piqued at this indifference to his eloquence and earnestness he went thenext afternoon, according to his agreement, to Strong's rooms, knowingthat Miss Dudley was to be there, and determined to win her over. Thelittle family party which Strong had got together was intended more forthis purpose than for any other, and Strong, willing to do what he couldto smooth his friend's path, was glad to throw him in contact withpersons from whom he could expect something besides flattery. Strongnever conceived it possible that Hazard could influence them, but hethought their influence likely to be serious upon Hazard. He underratedhis friend's force of character. 

His eyes were soon opened. Catherine Brooke made her first appearance onthis occasion, and was greatly excited at the idea of knowing people asintellectual as Mr. Hazard and Mr. Wharton. She thought them a sort ofprinces, and was still ignorant that such princes were as tyrannical asany in the Almanach de Gotha, and that those who submitted to them wouldsuffer slavery. Her innocent eagerness to submit was charming, and thetyrants gloated over the fresh and radiant victim who was eager to betheir slave. They lured her on, by assumed gentleness, in the path ofbric-à-brac and sermons. 

In her want of experience she appealed to Strong, who had not the airof being their accomplice, but seemed to her a rather weak-minded allyof her own. Strong had seated her by the window, and was teaching her toadmire his collections, while Wharton and Hazard were talking with therest of the party on the other side of the room. 

"What kind of an artist is Mr. Wharton?" asked Catherine. 

"A sort of superior house-painter, " replied Strong. "He sometimes doesglazing. "

"Nonsense!" said Catherine contemptuously. "I know all about him. Estherhas told me. I want to know how good an artist he is. What would theythink of him in Paris?"

"That would depend on whether they owned any of his pictures, " persistedStrong. "I think he might be worse. But then I have one of hispaintings, and am waiting to sell it when the market price gets well up. Do you see it? The one over my desk in the corner. How do you like it?"

"Why does he make it so dark and dismal?" asked Catherine. "I can't makeit out. "

"That is the charm, " he replied. "I never could make it out myself;let's ask him;" and he called across the room: "Wharton, will youexplain to Miss Brooke what your picture is about? She wants to know, and you are the only man who can tell her. "

Wharton in his grave way came over to them, and first looking sadly atMiss Brooke, then at the picture, said at length, as though to himself:"I thought it was good when I did it. I think it is pretty good now. What criticism do you make, Miss Brooke?"

Catherine was in mortal terror, but stood her ground like a heroine. "Isaid it seemed to me dark, Mr. Wharton, and I asked why you made it so. "

Wharton looked again at the picture and meditated over it. Then he said:"Do you think it would be improved by being lighter?"

Although Catherine pleaded guilty to this shocking heresy, she did itwith so much innocence of manner that, in a few minutes, Wharton wascaptured by her sweet face, and tried to make her understand his theorythat the merit of a painting was not so much in what it explained as inwhat it suggested. Comments from the by-standers interfered with hissuccess. Hazard especially perplexed Catherine's struggling attention bymaking fun of Wharton's lecture. 

"Your idea of a picture, " said he, "must seem to Miss Brooke like myCincinnati parishioner's idea of a corn-field. I was one day admiringhis field of Indian corn, which stretched out into the distance likeLake Erie in a yellow sunset, when the owner, looking at his harvest assolemnly as Wharton is looking at his picture, said that what he likedmost was the hogs he could see out of it. "

"Well, " said Wharton, "the Dutch made a good school out of men like him. Art is equal to any thing. I will paint his hogs for him, slaughteredand hung up by the hind legs, and if I know how to paint, I can put hiscorn-field into them, like Ostade, and make the butchers glow withemotion. "

"Don't believe him, Miss Brooke, " said Hazard. "He wants you to do hisown work, and if you give in to him you are lost. He covers a canvaswith paint and then asks you to put yourself into it. He might as wellhold up a looking-glass to you. Any man can paint a beautiful picture ifhe could persuade Miss Brooke to see herself in it. "

"What a pretty compliment, " said Esther. "It is more flattering than thepicture. "

"You can prove its truth, Miss Dudley, " said Hazard. "It is easy to showthat I am right. Paint Miss Brooke yourself! Give to her the soul of theColorado plains! Show that beauty of subject is the right ideal! Youwill annihilate Wharton and do an immortal work. "

Hazard's knack of fixing an influence wherever he went had long been thewonder of Strong, but had never surprised or amused him more than now, when he saw Esther, after a moment's hesitation, accept this idea, andbegin to discuss with Hazard the pose and surroundings which were togive Catherine Brooke's picture the soul of the Colorado plains. Hazarddrew well and had studied art more carefully than most men. He used tosay that if he had not a special mission for the church, as a matter ofpersonal taste he should have preferred the studio. He not only got atonce into intimate relations with Esther and Catherine, but heestablished a sort of title in Esther's proposed portrait. Stronglaughed to himself at seeing that even Mr. Dudley, who disliked theclergy more than any other form of virtue, was destined to fall a victimto Hazard's tact. 

When the clergyman walked away from Strong's rooms that afternoon, hefelt, although even to himself he would not have confessed it, a littleelated. Instinct has more to do than vanity with such weaknesses, andHazard's instinct told him that his success, to be lasting, dependedlargely on overcoming the indifference of people like the Dudleys. If hecould not draw to himself and his church the men and women who werestrong enough to have opinions of their own, it was small triumph todraw a procession of followers from a class who took their opinions, like their jewelry, machine-made. He felt that he must get a hold on therebellious age, and that it would not prove rebellious to him. He meantthat Miss Dudley should come regularly to church, and on his success inbringing her there, he was half-ready to stake the chances of hismission in life. 

So Catherine's portrait was begun at once, when Catherine herself hadbeen barely a week in New York. To please Esther, Mr. Dudley had builtfor her a studio at the top of his house, which she had fitted up in thestyle affected by painters, filling it with the regular supply ofeastern stuffs, porcelains, and even the weapons which Damascus has thecredit of producing; one or two ivory carvings, especially a smallItalian crucifix; a lay figure; some Japanese screens, and eastern rugs. Her studio differed little from others, unless that it was cleaner thanmost; and it contained the usual array of misshapen sketches pinnedagainst the wall, and of spoiled canvases leaning against each other incorners as though they were wall flower beauties pouting at neglect. 

Here Catherine Brooke was now enthroned as the light of the prairie, andday after day for three weeks, Esther labored over the portrait with asmuch perseverance as though Hazard were right in promising that itshould make her immortal. The last days of November and the first ofDecember are the best in the year for work, and Esther worked with anenergy that surprised her. She wanted to extort praise from Mr. Wharton, and even felt a slight shade of responsibility towards Mr. Hazard. Atfirst no one was to be admitted to see it while in progress; then anexception was made for Strong and Hazard who came to the house oneevening, and in a moment of expansiveness were told that they would beadmitted to the studio. They came, and Esther found Mr. Hazard'ssuggestions so useful that she could not again shut him out. In returnshe was shamed into going to church with her aunt the following Sunday, where she heard Mr. Hazard preach again. She did not enjoy it, and didnot think it necessary to repeat the compliment. "One should not knowclergymen, " she said in excuse to her father for not liking the sermon;"there is no harm in knowing an actress or opera-singer, but religion isa serious thing. " Mr. Hazard did not know how mere a piece of civilityher attendance was; he saw only that she was present, that his audiencewas larger and his success more assured than ever. With this he was wellsatisfied, and, as he had been used in life always to have his own way, he took it for granted that in this instance he had got it. 

The portrait of course did not satisfy Esther. Do what she would, Catherine's features and complexion defied modeling and made theartificial colors seem hard and coarse. The best she could paint was notfar from down-right failure. She felt the danger and called Mr. Hazardto her aid. Hazard suggested alterations, and insisted much on what hewas pleased to call "values, " which were not the values Esther hadgiven. With his help the picture became respectable, as pictures go, although it would not have been with impunity that Tintoret himself hadtried to paint the soul of the prairie. 

Esther, like most women, was timid, and wanted to be told when she couldbe bold with perfect safety, while Hazard's grasp of all subjects, though feminine in appearance, was masculine and persistent in reality. To be steadily strong was not in Esther's nature. She was audacious onlyby starts, and recoiled from her own audacity. Before long, Hazard beganto dominate her will. She felt a little uneasy until he had seen andapproved her work. More than once he disapproved, and then she had to doit over again. She began at length to be conscious of this impalpabletyranny, and submitted to it only because she felt her own dependenceand knew that in a few days more she should be free. If he had beenclerical or dogmatic, she might have resented it and the charm wouldhave broken to pieces on the spot, but he was for the time a painterlike herself, as much interested in the art, and caring for nothingelse. 

Towards Christmas the great work was finished, and the same party thathad met a month before at Strong's rooms, came together again inEsther's studio to sit upon and judge the portrait they had suggested. Mr. Dudley, with some effort, climbed up from his library; Mrs. Murrayagain acted as chaperon, and even Mr. Murray, whose fancy for pictureswas his only known weakness, came to see what Esther had made ofCatherine. The portrait was placed in a light that showed all its bestpoints and concealed as far as possible all its weak ones; and Estherherself poured out tea for the connoisseurs. 

To disapprove in such a company was not easy, but Wharton was equal tothe task. He never compromised his convictions on such matters even toplease his hosts, and in consequence had given offense to most of thepicture-owners in the city of New York. He showed little mercy now toEsther, and perhaps his attack might have reduced her courage todespair, had she not found a champion who took her defense wholly on hisown shoulders. It happened that Wharton attacked parts of the treatmentfor which Hazard was responsible, and when Hazard stepped into thelists, avowing that he had advised the work and believed it to be good, Esther was able to retire from the conflict and to leave the two menfighting a pitched battle over the principles of art. Hazard defendedand justified every portion of the painting with a vigor and resourcequite beyond Esther's means, and such as earned her lively gratitude. When he had reduced Wharton to silence, which was not a difficult task, for Wharton was a poor hand at dispute or argument, and felt rather thantalked, Mr. Hazard turned to Esther who gave him a look of gratitudesuch as she had rarely conferred on any of his sex. 

"I think we have ground him to powder at last, " said Hazard with hisboyish laugh of delight. 

"I never knew before what it was to have a defender, " said she simply. 

Meanwhile Strong, who thought this battle no affair of his, was amusinghimself as usual by chaffing Catherine. "I have told my colleague, whoprofesses languages, " said he, "that I have a young Sioux in the city, and he is making notes for future conversation with you. "

"What will he talk about, " asked Catherine; "are all professors asfoolish as you?"

"He will be light and airy with you. He asked me what gens you belongedto. I told him I guessed it was the grouse gens. He said he had not beenaware that such a totem existed among the Sioux. I replied that, so faras I could ascertain, you were the only surviving member of yourfamily. "

"Well, and what am I to say?" asked Catherine. 

"Tell him that the Rocky Mountains make it their only business to echohis name, " said Strong. "Have you an Indian grandmother?"

"No, but perhaps I could lariat an old aunt for him, if he will like mebetter for it. "

"Aunt will do, " said Strong. "Address the old gentleman in Sioux, andcall him the 'dove with spectacles. ' It will please his soft old heart, and he will take off his spectacles and fall in love with you. There isnothing so frivolous as learning; nothing else knows enough. "

"I like him already, " said Catherine. "A professor with spectacles isworth more than a Sioux warrior. I will go with him. "

"Don't be in a hurry, " replied Strong; "it will come to about the samething in the end. My colleague will only want your head to dry and stufffor his collection. "

"If I were a girl again, " said Mrs. Murray, who was listening to theirconversation, "I would much rather a man should ask for my head than myheart. "

"That is what is the matter with all of you, " said Strong. "There areWharton and Esther at it again, quarreling about Catherine's head. Everybody disputes about her head, and I am the only one who goes for herheart. "

"Mr. Wharton is so stern, " pleaded Esther in defense against the chargeof quarreling. "A hundred times he has told me that I can't draw; heshould have made me learn when he undertook to teach me. "

"You might learn more easily now, if you would be patient about it, "said Wharton. "You have too much quickness and not enough knowledge. "

"I think Mr. Hazard turns his compliments better than you, " saidEsther. "After one of your speeches I have to catch my breath and thinkwhat it means. "

"I mean that you ought to be a professional, " replied Wharton. 

"But if I were able to be a professional, do you think I would be anamateur?" asked Esther. "No! I would decorate a church. "

"If that is all your ambition, do it now!" said Wharton. "Come and helpme to finish St. John's. I have half a dozen workmen there who arecertainly not so good as you. "

"What will you give me to do?" asked she. 

"I will engage you to paint, under my direction, a large female figureon the transept wall. There are four vacant spaces for which I have madeonly rough drawings, and you can try your hand on whichever you prefer. You shall be paid like the other artists, and you will find some otherwomen employed there, to keep you company. "

"Let me choose the subject, " said Mr. Hazard. "I think I have a voice inthe matter. "

"That depends on your choice, " replied Wharton. 

"It must be St. Cecilia, of course, " said Hazard; "and Miss Brooke mustsit again as model. "

"Could you not sit yourself as St. George on the dragon?" asked Strong. "I have just received a tertiary dragon from the plains, which I shouldlike to see properly used in the interests of the church. "

"Catherine is a better model, " answered Esther. 

"You've not yet seen my dragon. Let me bring him round to you. WithHazard on his back, he would fly away with you all into the stars. "

"There are dragons enough at St. John's, " answered Hazard. "I will rideon none of them. "

"You've no sense of the highest art, " said Strong. "Science alone istruth. You are throwing away your last chance to reconcile science andreligion. "

So, after much discussion, it was at last decided that Esther Dudleyshould begin work at St. John's as a professional decorator under Mr. Wharton's eye, and that her first task should be to paint a standingfigure of St. Cecilia, some eight or ten feet high, on the wall of thenorth transept. 

_Chapter IV_

St. John's church was a pleasant spot for such work. The north transept, high up towards the vault of the roof, was still occupied by a widescaffold which shut in the painters and shut out the curious, and ranthe whole length of its three sides, being open towards the body of thechurch. When Esther came to inspect her field of labor, she foundherself obliged to choose between a space where her painting would beconspicuous from below, and one where, except in certain unusual lights, it could hardly be seen at all. Partly out of delicacy, that she mightnot seem to crowd Wharton's own work into the darkness; partly out ofpure diffidence, Esther chose the least conspicuous space, and there asort of studio was railed off for her, breast high, within which she wasmistress. Wharton, when painting, was at this time engaged at somedistance, but on the same scaffolding, near the nave. 

The great church was silent with the echoing silence which is audible. Except for a call from workmen below to those at work above, or for themurmur of the painters as they chatted in intervals of rest, or foroccasional hammering, which echoed in hollow reverberations, no sounddisturbed repose. Here one felt the meaning of retreat andself-absorption, the dignity of silence which respected itself; thepresence which was not to be touched or seen. To a simple-minded childlike Catherine Brooke, the first effect was as impressive as though shewere in the church of St. Mark's. She was overwhelmed by the space andsilence, the color and form; and as she came close to Wharton's fourgreat figures of the evangelists and saw how coarsely they were painted, and looked sheer down from them upon the distant church-floor, shethought herself in an older world, and would hardly have felt surprisedat finding herself turned into an Italian peasant-girl, and at seeingMichael Angelo and Raphael, instead of Wharton and Esther, walk in atthe side door, and proceed to paint her in celestial grandeur andbeauty, as the new Madonna of the prairie, over the high altar. 

This humility lasted several minutes. Then after glancing steadfastly atWharton's figure of John of Patmos which stood next to that whichEsther was to paint, Catherine suddenly broke out:

"Shade of Columbus! You are not going to make me look like that?"

"I suppose I must, " replied Esther, mischievously. 

"Lean and dingy, in a faded brown blanket?" asked Catherine in evidentanguish. 

"So Mr. Wharton says, " answered Esther, unrelentingly. 

"Not if I'm there, " rejoined Catherine, this time with an air of calmdecision. "I'm no such ornery saint as that. "

Henceforth she applied all her energies and feminine charms to the taskof preventing this disaster, and her first effort was to make a conquestof Wharton. Esther stood in fear of the painter, who was apt to be tooearnest to measure his words with great care. He praised little andfound fault much. He broke out in rage with all work that seemed to himweak or sentimental. He required Esther to make her design on the spotthat he might see moment by moment what it was coming to, and half adozen times he condemned it and obliged her to begin anew. Almost everyday occurred some scene of discouragement which made Esther almostregret that she had undertaken a task so hard. 

Catherine, being encouraged by the idea that Esther was partlystruggling for her sake, often undertook to join in the battle andsometimes got roughly handled for her boldness. 

"Why can't you let her go her own way, Mr. Wharton, and see what shemeans to do?" asked Catherine one morning, after a week of unprofitablelabor. 

"Because she does not come here to go her own way, Miss Brooke, but togo the right way. "

"But don't you see that she is a woman, and you are trying to make a manof her?"

"An artist must be man, woman and demi-god, " replied Wharton sternly. 

"You want me to be Michael Angelo, " said Esther, "and I hate him. Idon't want to draw as badly as he did. "

Wharton gave a little snort of wrath: "I want you to be above yoursubject, whatever it is. Don't you see? You are trying to keep down on alevel with it. That is not the path to Paradise. Put heaven in MissBrooke's eyes! Heaven is not there now; only earth. She is a flower, ifyou like. You are the real saint. It is your own paradise that St. Cecilia is singing about. I want to make St. Cecilia glow with yoursoul, not with Miss Brooke's. Miss Brooke has got no soul yet. "

"Neither have I, " groaned Esther, making up a little face at Wharton'svehemence. 

"No, " said Wharton, seized with a gravity as sudden as his outbreak, "Isuppose not. A soul is like a bird, and needs a sharp tap on its shellto open it. Never mind! One who has as much feeling for art as you have, must have soul some where. "

This sort of lecture might be well enough for Esther, if she had theability to profit by it, but Catherine had no mind to be thus treated asthough she were an early Christian lay-figure. She flushed at hearingherself coolly flung aside like common clay, and her exquisite eyes halffilled with tears as she broke out:

"I believe you think I'm a beetle because I come from Colorado! Why mayI not have a soul as well as you?"

Wharton started at this burst of feeling; he felt as though he hadreally cracked the egg-shell of what he called a soul, in the wrongperson; but he was not to be diverted from his lecture. "There, MissDudley, " he said, "look at her now!" Then, catching a crayon, hecontinued: "Wait! Let me try it myself!" and began rapidly to draw thegirl's features. Quite upset by this unexpected recoil of her attack, Catherine would have liked to escape, but the painter, when the fit wason him, became very imperious, and she dared not oppose his will. Whenat length he finished his sketch, he had the civility to beg her pardon. 

"This is a man's work, " said Esther, studying his drawing. "No womanwould ever have done it. I don't like it. I prefer her as she is and asI made her. "

Wharton himself seemed to be not perfectly satisfied with his ownsuccess, for he made no answer to Esther's criticism, and after oneglance at his sketch, relapsed into moody silence. Perhaps he felt thatwhat he had drawn was not a St. Cecilia at all, and still less aCatherine Brooke. He had narrowed the face, deepened its lines, made theeyes much stronger and darker, and added at least ten years toCatherine's age, in order to give an expression of passion subsided andheaven attained. 

"You have reached Nirvana, " said Esther to Catherine, still studying thesketch. 

"What is Nirvana?" asked Catherine. 

"Ask Mr. Wharton. He has put you there. "

"Nirvana is what I mean by Paradise, " replied Wharton slowly. "It iseternal life, which, my poet says, consists in seeing God. "

"I would not like to look like that, " said Catherine in an awe-strucktone. "Do you think this picture will ever be like me?"

"The gods forbid!" said the painter uneasily. 

Catherine, who could not take her eyes from this revelation of thepossible mysteries in her own existence, mysteries which for the firsttime seemed to have come so near as to over-shadow her face, nowsuddenly turned to Wharton and said with irresistible simplicity:

"Mr. Wharton, will you let me have it? I have no money. Will you give itto me?"

"You could not buy it. I will give it to you on one condition, " repliedWharton. 

"Don't make it a hard one. "

"You shall forget that I said you had no soul. "

"Oh!" said Catherine greatly relieved; "if I have one, you were thefirst to see it. "

She carried the sketch away with her, nor has any one caught sight of itsince she rolled it up. She refused to show it or talk of it, until evenStrong was forced to drop the subject, and leave her to dream in peaceof the romance that could give such a light to her eyes. 

Strong was one of the few persons allowed to climb up to their perch andsee their work. When he next came, Esther told him of Wharton's lecture, and of Catherine's sudden rebellion. Delighted with this new flight ofhis prairie bird, Strong declared that as they were all bent on takinglikenesses of Catherine, he would like to try his own hand at it, andshow them how an American Saint ought to look when seen by the light ofscience. He then set to work with Esther's pencils, and drew a portraitof Catherine under the figure of a large Colorado beetle, with wingsextended. When it was done he pinned it against the wall. 

"Now, Esther!" said he. "Take my advice. No one wants European saintsover here; they are only clerical bric-à-brac, and what little meaningthey ever had is not worth now a tolerable Japanese teapot; but here isa national saint that every one knows; not an American citizen can comeinto your church from Salt Lake City to Nantucket, who will not say thatthis is the church for his money; he will believe in your saints, for heknows them. Paint her so!"

"Very well!" said Catherine. "If Mr. Wharton will consent, I have noobjection. "

Wharton took it with his usual seriousness. "I believe you are right, "said he sadly. "I feel more and more that our work is thrown away. IfHazard and the committee will consent, Miss Dudley shall paint what shelikes for all me. "

No one dared carry die joke so far as to ask Mr. Hazard's consent tocanonize this American saint, and Strong after finishing his sketch, andlabelling it: "_Sta. Catarina 10-Lineata_ (Colorado), " gave it toCatherine as a companion to Wharton's. For some time she was called thebeetle. Wharton's conscience seemed to smite him for his rudeness, andCatherine was promoted to the position of favorite. While Esther toiledover the tiresome draperies of her picture, Catherine would wander offwith Wharton on his tours of inspection; she listened to all thediscussions, and picked up the meaning of his orders and criticisms; ina short time she began to maintain opinions of her own. Wharton liked tohave her near him, and came to get her when she failed to appear at hisrounds. They became confidential and sympathetic. 

"Are you never homesick for your prairie?" he asked one day. 

"Not a bit!" she answered. "I like the East. What is the use of having aworld to one's self?"

"What is the use of any thing?" asked Wharton. 

"I give it up, " she replied. "Does art say that a woman is no use?"

"I know of nothing useful in life, " said he, "except what is beautifulor creates beauty. You are beautiful, and ought to be most so on yourprairie. "

"Am I really beautiful?" asked Catherine with much animation. "No oneever told me so before. "

This was coquetry. The young person had often heard of the fact, and, even had she not, her glass told her of it several times a day. Shemeant only that this was the first time the fact came home to her as anew and exquisite sensation. 

"You have the charm of the Colorado hills, and plains, " said he. "Butyou won't keep it here. You will become self-conscious, andself-consciousness is worse than ugliness. "

"Nonsense!" said Catherine boldly. "I know more art than you, if that isyour notion. Do you suppose girls are so savage in Denver as not to knowwhen they are pretty? Why, the birds are self-conscious! So are horses!So are antelopes! I have seen them often showing off their beauties likeNew York women, and they are never so pretty as then. "

"Don't try it, " said he. "If you do, I shall warn you. Tell me, do youthink my figure of St. Paul here self-conscious? I lie awake nights forfear I have made him so. "

Catherine looked long at the figure and then shook her head. "I couldtell you if it were a woman, " she said. "All women are more or lessalike; but men are quite different, and even the silly ones may havebrains somewhere. How can I tell?"

"A grain of self-consciousness would spoil him, " said Wharton. 

"Then men must be very different from women, " she replied. "I will giveyou leave to paint me on every square inch of the church, walls androof, and defy you to spoil any charm you think I have, if you will onlynot make me awkward or silly; and you may make me as self-conscious asEsther's St. Cecilia there, only she calls it modesty. "

Catherine was so pulled about and put to such practical uses in art asto learn something by her own weary labors. A quick girl soon picks upideas when she hears clever men talking about matters which theyunderstand. Esther began to feel a little nervous. Catherine took sokindly to every thing romantic that Wharton began to get power over her. He had a queer imagination of his own, which she could not understand, but which had a sort of fascination for her. She ran errands for him, and became a sort of celestial messenger about the church. As forWharton, he declared that she stood nearer nature than any woman heknew, and she was in sympathy with his highest emotions. He let her askinnumerable questions, which he answered or not, as happened to suit hismood. He paid no attention to Esther's remonstrances at being deprivedof her model, but whenever he wanted Catherine for any purpose, he sentfor her, and left Esther to her own resources. Catherine had her ownreasons for being docile and for keeping him in good humor. She startedwith the idea that she did not intend to be painted, if she could helpit, as a first century ascetic, without color, and clothed in ahair-cloth wrapper; and having once begun the attempt to carry her ownobject, she was drawn on without the power to stop. 

Her intimacy with Wharton began to make Esther uneasy, so that one day, when Strong came up, and, missing Catherine, asked what had become ofher, she consulted him on the subject. 

"Catherine has gone off with Mr. Wharton to inspect, " she said. "Hecomes for her or sends for her every day. What can I do about it?"

"Where is the harm?" asked Strong. "If she likes to pass an hour or twodoing that sort of thing, I should think it was good for her. "

"But suppose she takes a fancy to him?"

"Oh! No woman could marry Wharton, " said Strong. "He would forget hertoo often, and she would lose patience with him before he thought of heragain. Give her her head! He will teach her more that is worth herknowing than she would learn in a life-time in Aunt Sarah's parlor. "

"I wish I could give her something else to amuse her. "

"Well!" replied Strong. "We will invent something. " Catherine returned afew minutes later, and he asked her how she got on with the task-master, and whether he had yet recovered her favor. 

"Since the beetle turned on him, " said Catherine, "we have got on liketwo little blind mice. He has been as kind to me as though I were hismother; but why is he so mysterious? He will not tell me his history. "

"He is the same to us all, " said Strong. "Some people think he isashamed of his origin. He was picked out of the gutters of Cincinnati bysome philanthropist and sent abroad for an education. The fact is thathe cares no more about his origin than you do for being a Sioux Indian, but he had the misfortune to marry badly in Europe, and hates to talk ofit. "

"Then he has a wife already, when he is breaking my young heart?"exclaimed Catherine. 

"I would like to calm your fears, my poor child, " said Strong; "but thetruth is that no one knows what has become of his wife. She may bealive, and she may be dead. Do you want me to find out?"

"I am dying to know, " said Catherine; "but I will make him tell me allabout it one of these days. "

"Never!" replied Strong. "He lives only in his art since the collapse ofhis marriage. He eats and drinks paint. "

"Does he really paint so very well?" asked Catherine thoughtfully. "Ishe a great genius?"

"Young woman, we are all of us great geniuses. We never say so, becausewe are as modest as we are great, but just look into my book on fossilbatrachians. "

"I don't feel the least interest in you or your batrachiums; but I adoreMr. Wharton. "

"What is the good of your adoring Wharton?" asked the professor. "Short's very good as far as he goes, but the real friend is Codlin, notShort. "

"I shall hate you if you always make fun of me. What do you mean by yourCodlins and Shorts?"

"Did you never read Dickens?" cried Strong. 

"I never read a novel in my life, if that is what you are talkingabout, " answered Catherine. 

"Ho! Cousin Esther! The Sioux don't read Dickens. You should join thetribe. "

"I always told you that sensible people never read, " said Esther, hardat work on her painting. "Do you suppose St. Cecilia ever read Dickensor would have liked him if she had?"

"Perhaps not, " said Strong. "I take very little stock in saints, and shestrikes me as a little of a humbug, your Cecilia; but I would like toknow what the effect of the 'Old Curiosity Shop' would be on afull-blooded Indian squaw. Catherine, will you try to read it if I bringyou a copy here?"

"May I?" asked Catherine. "You know I was taught to believe that novelsare sinful. "

Strong stared at her a moment with surprise that any new trait in hercould surprise him, and then went on solemnly: "Angel, you are manypoints too good for this wicked city. If you remain here unperverted, you will injure our trade. I must see to it that your moral tone islowered. Will you read a novel of this person named Dickens if Mr. Hazard will permit you to do so in his church?"

"If Mr. Hazard says I must, I shall do so with pleasure, " repliedCatherine with her best company manners; and the Reverend Mr. Hazard, having been taken into Esther's confidence on the subject, decided, after reflection, that Miss Brooke's moral nature would not be hurt byreading Dickens under such circumstances; so the next day Catherine wasplunged into a new world of imagination which so absorbed her thoughtsthat for the time Wharton himself seemed common-place. High on herscaffolding which looked sheer down into the empty, echoing church, withhuge saints and evangelists staring at her from every side, and martyrsadmiring each other's beatitude, Catherine, who was already halfinclined to think life unreal, fell into a dream within a dream, andwondered which was untrue. 

Esther's anxiety about Catherine was for the time put at rest by theprofessor's little maneuver, but she had some rather more serious causefor disquiet about herself, in regard to which she did not care toconsult her cousin or any one else. Wharton and Strong were not the onlymen who undertook to enliven her path of professional labor. Every dayat noon, the Reverend Stephen Hazard visited his church to see howWharton was coming forward, and this clerical duty was not neglectedafter Esther joined the work-people. Much as Mr. Hazard had to do, andfew men in New York were busier, he never forgot to look in for a momenton the artists, and Esther could not help noticing that this momenttended to lengthen. He had a way of joining Wharton and Catherine ontheir tour of inspection, and then bringing Catherine back to Esther'swork-place, and sitting down for an instant to rest and look at the St. Cecilia. Time passed rapidly, and once or twice it had come overEsther's mind that, for a very busy man, Mr. Hazard seemed to waste agreat deal of time. It grew to be a regular habit that between noon andone o'clock, Esther and Catherine entertained the clergyman of theparish. 

The strain of standing in a pulpit is great. No human being ever yetconstructed was strong enough to offer himself long as a light tohumanity without showing the effect on his constitution. Buddhist saintsstand for years silent, on one leg, or with arms raised above theirheads, but the limbs shrivel, and the mind shrivels with the limbs. Christian saints have found it necessary from time to time to drop theirarms and to walk on their legs, but they do it with a sort of apology ordefiance, and sometimes do it, if they can, by stealth. One is a saintor one is not; every man can choose the career that suits him; but to besaint and sinner at the same time requires singular ingenuity. For thisreason, wise clergymen, whose tastes, though in themselves innocent, maygive scandal to others, enjoy their relaxation, so far as they can, inprivacy. Mr. Hazard liked the society of clever men and agreeable women;he was bound to keep an eye on the progress of his own church; hestepped not an inch outside the range of his clerical duty andprivilege; yet ill-natured persons, and there were such in his parish, might say that he was carrying on a secular flirtation in his own churchunder the pretense of doing his duty. Perhaps he felt the risk ofrunning into this peril. He invited no public attention to the manner inwhich he passed this part of his time, and never alluded to the subjectin other company. 

To make his incessant attention still more necessary, it happened thatHazard's knowledge and his library were often drawn upon by Wharton andhis workmen. Not only was he learned in all matters which pertained tochurch arrangement and decoration, but his collection of books on thesubject was the best in New York, and his library touched the churchwall. Wharton had a quantity of his books in constant use, and wasincessantly sending to consult about points of doubt. Hazard was bentupon having every thing correct, and complained sadly when he found thathis wishes were not regarded. He lectured Wharton on the subject ofearly Christian art until he saw that Wharton would no longer listen, and then he went off to Miss Dudley, and lectured her. 

Esther was not a good subject for instruction of this sort. She caredlittle for what the early Christians believed, either in religion orart, and she remembered nothing at all of his deep instruction on theinferences to be drawn from the contents of crypts and catacombs. Themore earnest he became, the less could she make out his meaning. Shecould not reconcile herself to draw the attenuated figures and haggardforms of the early martyrs merely because they suited the style ofchurch decoration; and she could see no striking harmony of relationbetween these ill-looking beings and the Fifth Avenue audience to whomthey were supposed to have some moral or sentimental meaning. After oneor two hesitating attempts to argue this point, she saw that it wasuseless, and made up her mind that as a matter of ordinary good manners, the least she could do was to treat Mr. Hazard civilly in his ownchurch, and listen with respect to his lectures on Christian art. Sheeven did her best to obey his wishes in all respects in which sheunderstood them, but here an unexpected and confusing play ofcross-purposes came in to mislead her. Wharton suddenly found thatHazard let Miss Dudley have her own way to an extent permitted to no oneelse. Esther was not conscious that the expression of a feeling or awish on her part carried any special weight, but there could be no doubtthat if Miss Dudley seemed to want any thing very much, Mr. Hazardshowed no sense of shame in suddenly forgetting his fixed theories andencouraging her to do what she pleased. This point was settled when shehad been some ten days at work trying to satisfy Wharton's demands, which were also Mr. Hazard's, in regard to the character and expressionof St. Cecilia. Catherine was so earnest not to be made repulsive, andEsther's own tastes lay so strongly in the same direction, that when itcame to the point, she could not force herself to draw such a figure aswas required; she held out with a sort of feminine sweetness such ascried aloud for discipline, and there was no doubt that Wharton wasquite ready to inflict it. In spite of Catherine, and Esther too, hewould have carried his point, had Esther not appealed to Mr. Hazard;but this strenuous purist, who had worried Wharton and the buildingcommittee with daily complaints that the character of their work wantedspiritual earnestness, now suddenly, at a word from Miss Dudley, turnedabout and encouraged her, against Wharton's orders, to paint a figure, which, if it could be seen, which was fortunately not the case, mustseem to any one who cared for such matters, out of keeping with all thework which surrounded it. 

"Do you know, " said Esther to Mr. Hazard, "that Mr. Wharton insists onmy painting Catherine as though she were forty years old and rheumatic?"

"I know, " he replied, glancing timidly towards the procession of sternand elderly saints and martyrs, finished and unfinished, which seemed tobear up the church walls. "Do you think she would feel at home here ifshe were younger or prettier?"

"No! Honestly, I don't think she would, " said Esther, becoming bold ashe became timid. "I will paint Cecilia eighty years old, if Mr. Whartonwants her so. She will have lost her touch on the piano, and her voicewill be cracked, but if you choose to set such an example to your choir, I will obey. But I can't ask Catherine to sit for such a figure. I willsend out for some old woman, and draw from her. "

"I can't spare Miss Brooke, " said Hazard hastily. "The church needs her. Perhaps you can find some middle way with Wharton. "

"No! If I am to paint her at all, I must paint her as she is. There ismore that is angelic in her face now, if I could only catch it, thanthere is in all Mr. Wharton's figures put together, and if I am tocommit sacrilege, I would rather be untrue to Mr. Wharton, than to her. "

"I believe you are right, Miss Dudley. There _is_ a little look ofheaven in Miss Brooke's eyes. If you think you can put it into the St. Cecilia, why not try? If the experiment fails you can try again onanother plan. After all, the drapery is the only part that needs to bevery strictly in keeping. "

Thus this despotic clergyman gave way and irritated Wharton, who, havingpromised to let him decide the dispute, was now suddenly overruled. Heshrugged his shoulders and told Esther in private that he had struggledhard to get permission to do what she was doing, but only the sternest, strongest types would satisfy the church then. "It was all I could do toget them down to the thirteenth century, " he said; "whenever I beggedfor beauty of form, they asked me whether I wanted the place to looklike a theater. "

"You know they're quite right, " said Esther. "It has a terriblygrotesque air of theater even now. "

"It _is_ a theater, " growled Wharton. "That is what ails our religion. But it is not the fault of our art, and if you had come here a littleearlier, I would have made one more attempt. I would like now, even asit is, to go back to the age of beauty, and put a Madonna in the heartof their church. The place has no heart. "

"I never could have given you help enough for that, Mr. Wharton; butwhat does it matter about my poor Cecilia? She does no harm up here. Noone can see her, and after all it is only her features that are modern!"

"No harm at all, but I wish I were a woman like you. Perhaps I couldhave my own way. "

Esther liked to have her own way. She had the instinct of power, but notthe love of responsibility, and now that she found herself allowed toviolate Wharton's orders and derange his plans, she became alarmed, asked no more favors, stuck closely to her work, and kept Catherinealways at her side. She even tried to return on her steps and followWharton's wishes, until she was stopped by Catherine's outcry. Then itappeared that Wharton had gone over to her side. Instead of supportingEsther in giving severity to the figure, he wanted it to be the closestpossible likeness of Catherine herself. Esther began to think that menwere excessively queer and variable; the more she tried to please them, the less she seemed to succeed; but Mr. Wharton certainly took moreinterest in the St. Cecilia as it advanced towards completion, althoughit was not in the least the kind of work which he liked or respected. 

Mr. Hazard took not so much interest in the painting. His pleasure invisiting their gallery seemed to be of a different sort. As Estherlearned to know him better, she found that he was suffering fromover-work and responsibility, and that the painters' gallery was a sortof refuge, where he escaped from care, for an entire change ofatmosphere and thought. In this light Esther found him a very charmingfellow, especially when he was allowed to have his own way withoutquestion or argument. He talked well; drew well; wrote well, and in caseof necessity could even sing fairly well. He had traveled far and wide, and had known many interesting people. He had a sense of humor, exceptwhere his church was concerned. He was well read, especially in a kindof literature of which Esther had heard nothing, the devotional writingsof the church, and the poetry of religious expression. Esther liked topick out plums of poetry, without having to search for them on her ownaccount, and as Hazard liked to talk even better than she to listen, they babbled on pleasantly together while Catherine read novels whichHazard chose for her, and which he selected with the idea of carryingher into the life of the past. There was an atmosphere of romance abouther novels, and not about the novels alone. 

_Chapter V_

While this ecclesiastical idyl was painting and singing itself in itsown way, blind and deaf to the realities of life, this life moved on inits accustomed course undisturbed by idyls. The morning's task wasalways finished at one o'clock. At that hour, if the weather was fine, Mr. Dudley commonly stopped at the church door to take them away, andthe rest of the day was given up to society. Esther and Catherine drove, made calls, dined out, went to balls, to the theater and opera, withoutinterrupting their professional work. Under Mrs. Murray's potentinfluence, Catherine glided easily into the current of society andbecame popular without an effort. She soon had admirers. One young man, of an excellent and very old Dutch family, Mr. Rip Van Dam, took amarked fancy for her. Mr. Van Dam knew nothing of her, except that shewas very pretty and came from Colorado where she had been brought up tolike horses, and could ride almost any thing that would not buck itssaddle off. This was quite enough for Mr. Van Dam whose taste for horseswas more decided than for literature or art. He took Catherine to drivewhen the sleighing was good, and was flattered by her enthusiasticadmiration of his beautiful pair of fast trotters. His confidence in herbecame boundless when he found that she could drive them quite as wellas he. His success in winning her affections would have been greater ifCatherine had not found his charms incessantly counteracted by thesociety of the older and more intelligent men, whom she never met atballs, but whom she saw every morning at the church, and whose tastesand talk struck her imagination. She liked Mr. Van Dam, but she laughedat him, which proved a thoughtless mind, for neither artists, clergymennor professors were likely to marry her, as this young man might perhapshave done, under sufficient encouragement. When, towards the first ofJanuary, Catherine left Mrs. Murray, in order to stay with Esther, forgreater convenience in the church work, Mr. Van Dam's attentions ratherfell off. He was afraid of Esther, whom he insisted on regarding asclever, although Esther took much care never to laugh at him, for fearof doing mischief. 

Catherine learned to play whist in order to amuse Mr. Dudley. They hadsmall dinners, at which Hazard was sometimes present, and more oftenStrong, until he was obliged to go West to deliver a course of lecturesat St. Louis. In spite of Mr. Dudley's supposed dislike for clergymen, he took kindly to Hazard and made no objection to his becoming a tamecat about the house. To make up a table at whist, Hazard did not refuseto take a hand; and said it was a part of his parochial duty. Mr. Dudleylaughed and told him that if he performed the rest of his parochialduties equally ill, the parish should give him a year's leave of absencefor purposes of study. Mr. Dudley disliked nothing so much as to betreated like an invalid, or to be serious, and Hazard gratified him bylaughing at the doctors. They got on wonderfully well together, to theincreasing amazement of Esther. 

Card-playing and novel-reading were not the only cases in which Mr. Hazard took a liberal view of his functions. His theology belonged tothe high-church school, and in the pulpit he made no compromise with thespirit of concession, but in all ordinary matters of indifference or ofinnocent pleasure he gave the rein to his instincts, and in regard toart he was so full of its relations with religion that he would admit ofno divergence between the two. Art and religion might take greatliberties with each other, and both be the better for it, as he thought. 

His thirteenth-century ideas led him into a curious experiment which wasquite in the thirteenth-century spirit. Catherine's insatiable spirit ofcoquetry was to blame, although it was not with him that she coquetted. Ready enough to try her youthful powers on most men, she had seemed torecognize by instinct that Mr. Hazard did not belong to her. Yet shecould not rest satisfied without putting even him to some useful purposeof her own. 

During Hazard's visits to the scaffold, he sometimes took up a penciland drew. Once he drew a sketch of Wharton in the character of a monkwith his brush and pallet in his hands. Catherine asked what connectionthere was between Mr. Wharton and a monastery. 

"None!" replied Mr. Hazard; "but I like to think of church work as doneby churchmen. In the old days he would have been a monk and would havepainted himself among these figures on the walls. "

Esther ventured to criticise Wharton's style; she thought it severe, monotonous, and sometimes strained. 

"Wharton's real notion of art, " said Hazard, "is a volcano. You may be avolcano at rest, or extinct, or in full eruption, but a volcano of somekind you have got to be. In one of his violent moods he once made me goover to Sicily with him, and dragged me to the top of Etna. Itfascinated him, and I thought he meant to jump into it and pull me afterhim, but at that time he was a sort of used-up volcano himself. "

"Then there is really something mysterious about his life?" askedCatherine. 

"Only that he made a very unhappy marriage which he dislikes to thinkabout, " replied Hazard. "As an artist it did him good, but it ruined hispeace and comfort, if he ever had any. He would never have made themistake, if he had not been more ignorant of the world than any mortalthat ever drew breath, but, as I was saying, a volcano was like arattlesnake to him, and the woman he married was a volcano. "

"What has become of her?" asked Esther. 

"I have not dared to ask for years. No one seems to know whether she isliving or dead. "

"Did he leave her?"

"No; she left him. He was to the last fascinated by her, so much sothat, after she left him, when I persuaded him to quit Paris, heinsisted on going to Avignon and Vaucluse, because Petrarch had beenunder the same sort of fascination, and Wharton thought himself the onlyman in the world who could understand Petrarch. If you want to insulthim and make him bitterly hate you, tell him that Laura was a marriedwoman with a dozen children. "

"Who was Laura?" asked Catherine; "and why should she not have a dozenchildren?"

"Laura was a beautiful girl with golden hair and a green dress whomPetrarch first saw in a church at Avignon, " answered Hazard. "She waspainted among the frescoes of the cathedral, as you are being paintednow, Miss Brooke; and Petrarch wrote some hundreds of sonnets about herwhich Wharton undertook to translate, and made me help him. We wereboth poets then. "

"I want to hear those sonnets, " said Catherine, quite seriously, asthough the likeness between herself and Laura had struck her as the mostnatural thing in the world. "Can you remember them?"

"I think I could. Don't find fault with me if you dislike the moral. Iapprove it because, like Petrarch, I am a bit of a churchman, but Idon't know what you may think of a lover who begins by putting hismistress on the same footing with his deity and ends by groaning overthe time he has thrown away on her. "

"Not to her face?" said Esther. 

"Worse! He saw her in church and wrote to her face something like this:

 'As sight of God is the eternal life, Nor more we ask, nor more to wish we dare, So, lady, sight of thee, '

and so on, or words to that effect. Yet after she was dead he said hehad wasted his life in loving her. I remember the whole of the sonnetbecause it cost me two days' labor in the railway between Avignon andNice. It runs like this:--

 'For my lost life lamenting now I go, Which I have placed in loving mortal thing, Soaring to no high flight, although the wing Had strength to rise and loftier sweep to show. Oh! Thou that seest my mean life and low! Invisible! Immortal! Heaven's king! To this weak, pathless spirit, succor bring, And on its earthly faults thy grace bestow! That I, who lived in tempest and in fear, May die in port and peace; and if it be That life was vain, at least let death be dear! In these few days that yet remain to me, And in death's terrors, may thy hand be near! Thou knowest that I have no hope but thee!'

In the Italian this is very great poetry, Miss Brooke, and if you don'tthink it so in my English, try and see if you can do better. "

"Very well, " said Catherine, coolly. "I've no doubt we can do it just aswell as you and Mr. Wharton. Can't we, Esther?"

"You are impudent enough to make St. Cecilia blush, " said Esther, whohappened to be wondering whether she might dare to put a little blushinto the cheeks of the figure on which she was painting. "You never reada word of Italian in your little life. "

"No! But you have!" replied Catherine, as though this were final. 

"The libretto of Lucia!" said Esther with scorn. 

"No matter!" resumed Catherine. "Bring me the books, Mr. Hazard, and Iwill translate one of those sonnets if I have to shut up Esther in adark closet. "

"Catherine! Don't make me ridiculous!" said Esther; but Catherine wasinspired by an idea, and would not be stopped. 

"Bring me the volume now, Mr. Hazard! You shall have your sonnet forSunday's sermon. "

"Don't do it, Mr. Hazard!" exhorted Esther solemnly. "It is one of herColorado jokes. She does not know what a sonnet is. She thinks it somekind of cattle-punching. "

"If I do not give you that sonnet, " cried Catherine, "I will give youleave to have me painted as much like an old skeleton as Mr. Whartonchooses. "

"Done!" said Hazard, who regarded this as at least one point worthgaining. "You shall have the books. I want to see Wharton's triumph. "

"But if I do poetry for you, " continued Catherine, "you must do paintingfor me. "

"Very well!" said Hazard. "What shall it be?"

"If I am Laura, " said Catherine, "I must have a Petrarch. I want you toput him up here on the wall, looking at me, as he did in the churchwhere he first saw me. "

"But what will Wharton and the committee say?" replied Hazard, startledat so monstrous a demand. 

"I don't believe Mr. Wharton will object, " answered Catherine. "He willbe flattered. Don't you see? He is to be Petrarch. "

"Oh!" cried Hazard, with a stare. "Now I understand. You want me topaint Wharton as a scriptural character looking across to Miss Dudley'sCecilia. "

"You are very slow!" said Catherine. "I think you might have seen itwithout making me tell you. "

To a low-church evangelical parson this idea might have seemedinexpressibly shocking, but there was something in it which, after amoment's reflection, rather pleased Hazard. It was the sort of thingwhich the Florentines did, and there was hardly an early church in Italyabout whose walls did not cling the colors of some such old union of artand friendship in the service of religion. Catherine's figure wasalready there. Why not place Wharton's by its side and honor the artistwho had devoted so large a share of his life to the service of thechurch, with, it must be confessed, a very moderate share of worldlyprofit. The longer Hazard thought of it, the less he saw to oppose. Histastes were flattered by the idea of doing something with his own handthat should add to the character and meaning of the building. Hisimagination was so pleased with the notion that at last he gave hisconsent:--"Very well, Miss Brooke! I will draw a figure for this nextvacant space, and carry it as far as I know how. If Wharton objects hecan efface it. But Miss Dudley will have to finish it for me, for Ican't paint, and Wharton would certainly stop me if I tried. "

Although this pretty bargain which seemed so fair, really threw onEsther the whole burden of writing sonnets and painting portraits forthe amusement of Catherine and Mr. Hazard, Catherine begged so hard thatshe at last consented to do her best, and her consent so much delightedHazard that he instantly searched his books for a model to work from, and as soon as he found one to answer his purpose, he began withEsther's crayons to draw the cartoon of a large figure which was topreserve under the character of St. Luke the memory of Wharton'sfeatures. When Wharton came next to inspect Esther's work, he was toldthat Mr. Hazard wished to try his hand on designing a figure for thevacant space, and he criticised and corrected it as freely as the rest. For such a task Hazard was almost as competent as Wharton, from themoment the idea was once given, and in this dark corner it matteredlittle whether a conventional saint were more or less correct. 

Meanwhile Catherine carried off a copy of Petrarch, and instantly turnedit over to Esther, seeming to think it a matter of course that sheshould do so trifling a matter as a sonnet with ease. "It won't take youfive minutes if you put your mind to it, " she said. "You can do anything you like, and any one could make a few rhymes. " Esther, willing toplease her, tried, and exhausted her patience on the first three lines. Then Catherine told the story to Mr. Dudley, who was so much amused byher ambition that he gave his active aid, and between them theysucceeded in helping Esther to make out a sonnet which Mr. Dudleydeclared to be quite good enough for Hazard. This done, Esther refusedto mix further in the matter, and made Catherine learn her verses byheart. The young woman found this no easy task, but when she thoughtherself perfect she told Mr. Hazard, as she would have told aschoolmaster, that she was ready with her sonnet. 

"I have finished the sonnet, Mr. Hazard, " she said one morning in abashful voice, as though she were again at school. 

"Where is it, Miss Brooke?"

Then Catherine, drawing herself up, with her hands behind her, began torecite:

 "Oh, little bird! singing upon your way, Or mourning for your pleasant summer-tide, Seeing the night and winter at your side, The joyous months behind, and sunny day! If, as you know your own pathetic lay, You knew as well the sorrows that I hide, Nestling upon my breast, you would divide Its weary woes, and lift their load away. I know not that our shares would then be even, For she you mourn may yet make glad your sight, While against me are banded death and heaven; But now the gloom of winter and of night With thoughts of sweet and bitter years for leaven, Lends to my talk with you a sad delight. "

Esther laughed till the tears rolled down her face at the droll effectof these tenderly sentimental verses in Catherine's mouth, but Hazardtook it quite seriously and was so much delighted with Catherine'srecitation that he insisted on her repeating it to Wharton, who took iteven more seriously than he. Hazard knew that the verses were Esther's, and was not disposed to laugh at them. Wharton saw that Catherine cameout with new beauties in every _rôle_ she filled, and already wanted touse her as a model for some future frescoed Euterpe. Esther was drivento laugh alone. 

Petrarch and Laura are dangerous subjects of study for young people in achurch. Wharton and Hazard knew by heart scores of the sonnets, and werefond of repeating verses either in the original or in their owntranslations, and Esther soon picked up what they let fall, being quickat catching what was thrown to her. She caught verse after verse ofHazard's favorites, and sometimes he could hear her murmuring as shepainted:

 "Siccome eterna vita è veder dio, Nè più si brama, nè bramar piu lice;"

and at such moments he began to think that he was himself Petrarch, andthat to repeat to his Laura the next two verses of the sonnet had becomethe destiny of his life. 

So the weeks ran on until, after a month of hard work, the last days ofJanuary saw the two figures nearly completed. When in due time themeaning of St. Luke became evident, Esther and Catherine waited in fearto see how Wharton would take the liberty on which they had so rashlyventured. As the likeness came out more strongly, he stopped one morningbefore it, when Esther, after finishing her own task, was working on Mr. Hazard's design. 

"By our lady of love!" said Wharton, with a start and a laugh; "now Isee what mischief you three have been at!"

"The church would not have been complete without it, " said Esthertimidly. 

For several minutes Wharton looked in silence at the St. Cecilia and atthe figure which now seemed its companion; then he said, turning away:"I shall not be the first unworthy saint the church has canonized. "

Esther drew a long breath of relief; Catherine started up, radiant withdelight; and thus it happens that on the walls of St. John's, high abovethe world of vanities beneath them, Wharton stands, and will stand forages, gazing at Catherine Brooke. 

Now that the two saints were nearly finished, Esther became a littledepressed. This church life, like a bit of religious Bohemianism andacted poetry, had amused her so greatly that she found her own smallstudio dull. She could no longer work there without missing the space, the echoes, the company, and above all, the sense of purpose, which shefelt on her scaffolding. She complained to Wharton of her feminine wantof motive in life. 

"I wish I earned my living, " she said. "You don't know what it is towork without an object. "

"Much of the best work in the world, " said he, "has been done with nomotive of gain. "

"Men can do so many things that women can't, " said she. "Men like towork alone. Women cannot work without company. Do you like solitude?"

"I would like to own a private desert, " he answered, "and live alone inthe middle of it with lions and tigers to eat intruders. "

"You need not go so far, " said she. "Take my studio!"

"With you and Miss Brooke in the neighborhood? Never!"

"We will let you alone. In a week you will put your head out of the doorand say: 'Please come and play jack-straws with me!'"

Catherine was not pleased at the thought that her usefulness was at anend. She had no longer a part to play unless it were that of duenna toEsther, and for this she was not so well fitted as she might have been, had providence thought proper to make her differently. Indeed, Esther'sanxiety to do her duty as duenna to Catherine was becoming so sharp thatit threatened to interfere with the pleasure of both. Catherine did herbest to give her friend trouble. 

"Please rub me all out, Mr. Wharton, " said she; "and make Esther beginagain. I am sure she will do it better the next time. "

Wharton was quite ready to find an excuse for pleasing her. If it was attimes a little annoying to have two women in his way whom he could notcontrol as easily as ordinary work-people, he had become so used to therestraint as not to feel it often, and not to regard it much. Estherthought he need not distress himself by thinking that he regarded it atall. Had not Catherine been so anxious to appear as the most docile andobedient of hand-maids besides being the best-tempered of prairiecreatures, she would long ago have resented his habit of first petting, then scolding, next ignoring, and again flattering her, as his moodhappened to prompt. He was more respectful with Esther, and kept out ofher way when he was moody, while she made it a rule never to leave herown place of work unless first invited, but Catherine, who was much byhis side, got used to ill-treatment which she bore with angelicmeekness. When she found herself left forgotten in a corner, orunanswered when she spoke, or unnoticed when she bade him good-morning, she consoled herself with reflecting that after every rudeness, Wharton's regard for her seemed to rise, and he took her more and moreinto his confidence with every new brutality. 

"Some day he will drag you to the altar by the hair, " said Esther; "andtell you that his happiness requires you to be his wife. "

"I wish he would try, " said Catherine with a little look of humor; "buthe has one wife already. "

"She mysteriously disappeared, " replied Esther. "Some day you will findher skeleton, poor thing!"

"Do you think so?" said Catherine gravely. "How fascinating he is! Hemakes me shiver!"

When Catherine begged to have every thing begun again, Whartonhesitated. Esther's work was not to his taste, but he was not at allsure that she would do equally well if she tried to imitate his ownmanner. 

"You know I wanted Miss Dudley to put more religious feeling and forceinto her painting, " said he, "but you all united and rode me down. "

"I will look like a real angel this time, " said Catherine. "Now I knowwhat it is you want. "

"I am more than half on her side, " went on Wharton. "I am not sure thatshe is wrong. It all comes to this: is religion a struggle or a joy? Tome it is a terrible battle, to be won or lost. I like your green dresswith the violets. Whose idea was that?"

"Petrarch's. You know I am Laura. St. Cecilia has the dress which Laurawore in church when Petrarch first saw her. "

"No!" said Wharton, after another pause, and long study of the twofigures. "Decidedly I will not rub you out; but I mean to touch upPetrarch. "

"O! You won't spoil the likeness!"

"Not at all! But if I am going to posterity by your side I want someexpression in my face. Petrarch was a man of troubles. "

"You promise not to change the idea?"

"I promise to look at you as long as you look at me, " said Whartongloomily. 

Meanwhile Esther had a talk with Mr. Hazard which left her more in doubtthan ever as to what she had best do. He urged her to begin somethingnew and to do it in a more strenuous spirit. 

"You are learning from Wharton, " said he. "Why should you stop at thevery moment when you have most to gain?"

"I am learning nothing but what I knew before, " she answered sadly. "Hecan teach only grand art and I am fit only for trifles. "

"Try one more figure!"

Esther shook her head. 

"My Cecilia is a failure, " she went on. "Mr. Wharton said it would be, and he was right. I should do no better next time, unless I took hisdesign and carried it out exactly as he orders. "

"One's first attempt is always an experiment. Try once more!"

"I should only spoil your church. In the middle of your best sermon youraudience would see you look up here and laugh. "

"You are challenging compliments. "

"What I could do nicely would be to paint squirrels and monkeys playingon vines round the choir, or daisies and buttercups in a row, with onetall daisy in each group of five. That is the way for a woman to makeherself useful. "

"Be serious!"

"I feel more solemn than Mr. Wharton's great figure of John of Patmos. Iam going home to burn my brushes and break my palette. What is the useof trying to go forward when one feels iron bars across one's face?"

"Be reasonable, Miss Dudley! If Wharton is willing to teach, why not bewilling to learn? You are not to be the judge. If I think your workgood, have I not a right to call on you for it?"

"Oh, yes! You have a right to call, and I have a right to refuse. I willpaint no more religious subjects. I have not enough soul. My St. Cecilialooks like a nursery governess playing a waltz for white-cravated saintsto dance by. " There was a tone of real mortification in Esther's voiceas she looked once more at the figure on the wall, and felt how weak itseemed by the side of Wharton's masculine work. Then she suddenlychanged her mind and did just what he asked: "If Mr. Wharton willconsent, I will begin again, and paint it all over. "

A woman could easily have seen that she was torn in opposite directionsby motives of a very contrary kind, but Mr. Hazard did not speculate onthis subject; he was glad to carry his point, and let the matter restthere. It was agreed that the next morning Wharton should decide uponthe proper course to be taken, and if he chose to reject her figure, sheshould begin it again. Esther and Catherine went home, but Esther wasill at ease. That her St. Cecilia did not come up to the level of herambition was a matter of course, and she was prepared for thedisappointment. Whose first attempt in a new style ever paired with itsconception? She felt that Mr. Hazard would think her wayward and weak. She could not tell him the real reason of her perplexity. She would haveliked to work on patiently under Wharton's orders without a thought ofherself, but how could she do so when Hazard was day by day comingnearer and nearer until already their hands almost touched. If she hadnot liked him, the question could easily have been settled, but she didlike him, and when she said this to herself she turned scarlet at thethought that he liked her, and--what should she do?

With a heavy heart she made up her mind that there was but one thing tobe done; she must retreat into her own house and bar the doors. If hedid not see that such an intimacy was sure to make trouble for him, she, who felt, if she did not see, the gulf that separated them, must teachhim better. 

Whether she would have held to this wise and prudent course against hisentreaties and Wharton's commands will never be known, for the question, which at the moment seemed to her so hard to decide, was alreadyanswered by fates which left her no voice in the matter. The nextmorning when the two girls, rather later than usual, reached the southdoor of the church where a stern guardian always stood to watch lestwolves entered under pretense of business, they saw a woman standing onthe steps and gazing at them as they approached from the avenue. In thisthey found nothing to surprise them, but as they came face to face withher they noticed that the stranger's dress and features were peculiarand uncommon even in New York, the sink of races. Although the weatherwas not cold, she wore a fur cap, picturesque but much worn, far fromneat, and matching in dirt as in style a sort of Polish or Hungariancapote thrown over her shoulders. Her features were strong, coarse andbloated; her eyes alone were fine. When she suddenly spoke to Esther hervoice was rough, like her features; and though Esther had seen toolittle of life to know what depths of degradation such a face and voicemeant, she drew back with some alarm. The woman spoke in French only toask whether this was the church of St. John. Replying shortly that itwas, Esther passed in without waiting for another question; but as sheclimbed the narrow and rough staircase to her gallery, she said toCatherine who was close behind:

"Somewhere I have seen that woman's eyes. "

"So have I!" answered Catherine, in a tone of suppressed excitement sounusual that Esther stopped short on the step and turned round. 

"Don't you know where?" asked Catherine without waiting to bequestioned. 

"Where was it?"

"In my picture! Mr. Wharton gave me her eyes. I am sure that woman ishis wife. "

"Catherine, you shall go back to Colorado. You have been reading toomany novels. You are as romantic as a man. "

Catherine did not care whether she were romantic or not; she knew thewoman was Wharton's wife. 

"Perhaps she means to kill him, " she ran on in a blood-curdling tone. "Wouldn't it be like Mr. Wharton to be stabbed to the heart on the stepsof a church, just as his great work was done? Do you know I think hewould like it. He is dying to be tragic like the Venetians, and havesome one write a poem about him. " Then after a moment's pause, sheadded, in the same indifferent tone of voice: "All the same, if he's notthere, I mean to go back and look out for him. I'm not going to let thatwoman kill him if I can help it!"

A warm dispute arose between the two girls which continued after theyreached their scaffold and found that Wharton was not there. Estherdeclared that Catherine should not go back; it was ridiculous andimproper; Mr. Wharton would laugh in her face and think her bold andimpertinent; the woman was probably a beggar who wanted to see Mr. Hazard; and when all this was of no avail Esther insisted that Catherineshould not go alone. Catherine, on her part, declared that she was notafraid of the woman, or of any woman, or man either, or of Mr. Wharton, and that she meant to walk down the avenue and meet him, and tell himthat this person was there. She was on the point of doing what shethreatened when they saw Wharton himself cross the church beneath andslowly climb the stairs. 

The two girls, dismissing their alarm as easily as they had taken it up, turned to their own affairs again. In a few minutes Wharton appeared onthe scaffolding and went to his regular work-place. After a time theysaw him coming to their corner. He looked paler than usual and moreabstracted, and, what was unusual, he carried a brush in his hand, asthough he had broken off his work without thinking what he was doing. Hehardly noticed them, but sat down, holding the brush with both hands, though it was wet. For some time he looked at the Cecilia without aword; then he began abruptly:

"You're quite right! It's not good! It's not handled in a large way orin keeping with the work round it. You might do it again much better. But it is you and it is she! I would leave it. I will leave it! Ifnecessary I could in a few days paint it all over and make it harmonize, but I should spoil it. I can draw better and paint better, but I can'tmake a young girl from Colorado as pure and fresh as that. To mereligion is passion. To reach Heaven, you must go through hell, andcarry its marks on your face and figure. I can't paint innocence withoutsuggesting sin, but you can, and the church likes it. Put your ownsanctity on the wall beside my martyrdom!"

Esther thought it would be civil on her part to say something at thispoint, but Wharton's remarks seemed to be made to no one in particular, and she was not quite certain that they were meant for her in spite ofthe words. He did not look at her. She was used to his peculiar moodsand soliloquies, and had learned to be silent at such times. She satsilent now, but Catherine, who took greater liberties with him, wasbolder. 

"Why can't you paint innocence?" she asked. 

"I am going to tell you, " he replied, with more quickness of manner. "Itis to be the subject of my last lecture. Ladies, school must closeto-day. "

Esther and Catherine glanced at each other. "You are going to send usaway?" asked Catherine in a tone of surprise. 

"You must go for the present, " answered Wharton. "I mean to tell you thereason, and then you will see why I can't paint innocence as you can. Asa lecture on art, my life is worth hearing, but don't interrupt thestory or you will lose it. Begin by keeping in your mind that twentyyears ago I was a ragged boy in the streets of Cincinnati. The drawingmaster in a public school to which I went, said I had a natural talentfor drawing, and taught me all he knew. Then a little purse was made upfor me and I was sent to Paris. Not yet twenty years old, I found myselfdropped into that great sewer of a city, a shy, ill-clothed, ill-fed, ill-educated boy, knowing no more of the world above me than a fishknows of the birds. For two years I knocked about in a studio till mymoney was used up, and then I knew enough to be able to earn a fewfrancs to keep me alive. Then I went down to Italy and of course got afever. I came back at last to Paris, half-fed, dyspeptic and morbid. Ihad visions, and the worst vision of my life I am going to tell you. 

"It was after I had been some years at work and had got already a littlereputation among Americans, that I was at my worst. Nothing seemed real. What earned me my first success was an attempt I made to paint thestrange figures and fancies which possessed me. I studied nothing butthe most extravagant subjects. For a time nothing would satisfy me butto draw from models at moments of intense suffering and at the instantof death. Models of that kind do not offer themselves and are not to bebought. I made friends with the surgeons and got myself admitted to oneof the great hospitals. I happened to be there one day when a woman wasbrought in suffering from an overdose of arsenic. This was the kind ofsubject I wanted. She was fierce, splendid, a priestess of the oracle!Tortured by agony and clinging to it as though it were a delight! Thenext day I came back to look for her: she was then exhausted and halfdead. She was a superb model, and I took an interest in her. When shegrew better I talked with her and found that she was a sort of ParisianPole with a strange history. She had been living as an actress at one ofthe small theaters, and had attempted suicide in sheer disgust withlife. I had played with the same idea for years. We had both struggledwith the world and hated it. Her imagination was more morbid than myown, and in her quieter moments, when her affections were roused, shewas wonderfully tender and devoted. When she left the hospital she putherself under my protection. I believe she loved me, and no one had everloved me before. I know she took possession of me, body and soul. Imarried her. I would just as willingly have jumped into the Seine withher if she had preferred it. For three months we lived together while Ifinished the picture which I called the Priestess of Delphi, paintedfrom my drawings of her in her agony. The picture made a great noise inParis, and brought me some new friends, among the rest one who, I think, really saved me from Charenton. Hazard called at my studio just as mytroubles were beginning to tear me to pieces. My wife had the temper ofa fury, and all the vices of Paris. Excitement was her passion; shecould not stand the quiet of an artist's life; yet her Bohemianinstincts came over her only in waves, and when they left her in peaceshe still had splendid qualities that held me to her. Hazard came inupon us one day in the middle of a terrible scene when she wasthreatening again to take her own life, and trying, or pretending to tryto take mine. When he came in, she disappeared. The next I heard of her, she was back on the stage--lost! I was worn out; my nervous system wasall gone. Then Hazard came to my help and took me off with him to thesouth of Europe. Our first stage was to Avignon and Vaucluse, and thereI found how curiously my experience had affected my art. I had learnedto adore purity and repose, but I could never get hold of my ideal. Fifty times I tried to draw Laura as I wanted to realize her and everytime I failed. I knew the secret of Petrarch and I could not tell it. Mywife came between me and my thought. All life took form in my hands as apassion. If I could learn again to paint a child, or any thing that hadnot the world in its eyes, I should be at peace at last. "

As he paused here, and seemed again to be musing over St. Cecilia, Esther's curiosity made her put in a word, "And your wife?"--she asked. 

"My wife?" he repeated in his abstracted tone, "I never saw her againtill this morning when I met her on the steps of the church. "

"Then it was your wife?" cried Catherine. 

"You saw her?" he asked with a touch of bitterness. "I won't ask whatyou thought of her. "

"I knew her by her eyes, " cried Catherine. "I thought she meant to shootyou, and when you came in I was just going to warn you. Now you see, Esther, I was right. "

Wharton leaned over and took Catherine's hand. "Thank you, " said he. "Ibelieve you are my good angel. But you remind me of what I came to say. The woman is quite capable of that or of any other scandal, and ofcourse Hazard's church must not be exposed to such a risk. I shall comehere no longer for the present, neither must you. I am bound to takecare of my friends. "

"But you!" said Esther. "What are you going to do?"

"I? Nothing! What can I do?"

"Do you mean, " said Catherine, with a comical fierceness in her voice asthough she wanted herself to take the French actress in hand, "do youmean to let that woman worry you how she likes?"

"The fault was mine, " replied Wharton. "I gave her my life. After allshe is my wife and I can't help it. I have promised to meet her thisafternoon at my studio. "

Even to these two girls there was something so helpless in Wharton'sideas of life that they protested against his conduct. Catherine wasspeechless with inability to understand what he meant. Esther boldlyinterfered. 

"You must do nothing without advice, " said she. "Wait till Mr. Hazardcomes and consult him. If you can't see him, promise me to go to myuncle, Mr. Murray, and let him take charge of this woman. You will ruinyour whole life if you let her into it again. "

"It is ruined already, " answered Wharton gloomily. "I had that onechance of happiness and I can never have another. "

Nevertheless he promised to wait for Hazard, and the two girlsobediently bade him good-by. Catherine's eyes were full of tears as heheld her hand and begged her pardon for his rudeness. A little romancewas passing out of her life. She went down the stairs after Estherwithout a word. As they left the church they saw the woman on thepavement outside, still walking up and down; Catherine passed her with aglance of repulsion and defiance that made the woman turn and watch hertill they disappeared down the avenue. 

An hour afterwards a quick step hurried up the stair, and Hazard, evidently much disturbed, appeared on the scaffolding. He found Whartonwhere the two girls had left him, sitting alone before St. Cecilia, thebroken brush still in his hands, and his left hand red with the wetpaint. His face was paler than ever, and over the left temple was alarge red spot, as though he had been pressing his hands to hisforehead. Hazard looked for a moment at the white face, contrastingpainfully with its ghastly spot of intense red, and then spoke withassumed indifference:

"So she has turned up again!"

Wharton returned his look with a weak smile which made his face stillmore horrible, and slowly answered:

"I have worse news than that!"

"More bad news!" said Hazard. 

"Tell me what you think, " continued Wharton in the same dreamy tone. "You see that Cecilia there?"

Hazard glanced at the figure and back to Wharton without speaking. Presently Wharton added with a smile of inexpressible content:

"Well! I love her. "

_Chapter VI_

Esther's regrets on quitting her work at the church lasted not so longas Catherine's, though they were more serious. She had already begun tofeel alarmed about her father's condition, and nothing but his positiveorder had induced her to leave him even for a few hours every day. Shehad seen that his strength steadily failed; he suffered paroxysms ofpain; he lost consciousness more than once; and although he insisted tothe last on acting as though he were well, his weakness increased untilhe could no longer sit out a game of whist, but was forced to lie on thesofa in his library where he liked to see every visitor who came to thehouse. He required that every thing about him should go on as usual, andnot only made Esther go regularly to her work, but took keen interest inhearing from her and Catherine all that was said and done at the church. He delighted in laughing at Catherine about her romantic relations withWharton, but he made no jokes about Mr. Hazard. He thought from thefirst that this intimacy might be a serious matter for Esther, but hewould not again interfere in her affairs, and feared making things worseby noticing them. He watched Hazard sharply, until Esther had theuncomfortable sense of feeling that her father's eyes were never faraway from the clergyman when he came to the house. She knew, or fanciedshe knew, every thought in her father's mind, and his silenceembarrassed her more than criticism could have done. She asked herselfin vain why her father, disliking the clergy as she knew he did, shouldsuddenly admit a clergyman into his intimacy. In truth, Mr. Dudleylooked on himself as no longer having a right to speak; his feelings andprejudices were to be kept out of her life; but he could watch, and thelonger he watched, the more intense his interest became. 

When Esther and Catherine returned from the church with their account ofWharton's wife, their first act was to tell the story to Mr. Dudley, wholay on his sofa and listened with keen interest. 

"I suppose you meant to come back for my revolver, " said he toCatherine, whose little explosions of courage always amused him. "Ithink I could almost have crawled round to see you take a shot at yourFrench friend as she started for you. "

"Oh, no!" said Catherine modestly. "I would have given the revolver toMr. Wharton. "

"Don't do it, Catherine! Wharton could not hit the church door with it. Suppose he had shot you instead of the other woman!"

"Of course!" said Catherine reflectively. "He wouldn't know how to use arevolver, would he? I suppose I ought to teach him. "

"Better not!" said Mr. Dudley. "Keep him under. You may have to talkwith him one of these days, after you have settled your littlemisunderstanding with his wife. "

Catherine took chaff with such gravity that even Mr. Dudley could notalways make out whether she was in jest or earnest. She had a quaint, serious way of accepting any sort of challenge and going it better, asStrong expressed it, which left her assailants wholly in the dark. Mr. Dudley wanted to stop any romantic nonsense between her and Wharton, butcould never quite make out whether she cared for him or not. Estherthought not. 

That evening they all hoped that Hazard would come in to tell them whatother scenes had occurred, and, under this little excitement, Mr. Dudleyfelt strong enough to appear like himself, although he dared not risefrom his sofa. At about eight o'clock they were gratified. Mr. Hazardappeared, and was received with such cordiality and intimacy as went farto make him feel himself a member of the family. 

"Thank you, " said Mr. Dudley. "We have done nothing but run to thewatch-tower to see if you were coming. Tell us quickly the ghastly news. We are prepared for the worst. "

"If you read Turgenieff, " replied Hazard, "you can imagine the kind ofexperience we have had. I feel as though I had stolen a chapter from oneof his stories. "

"No matter! Spoil it promptly! We never read any thing. "

"May I have first a cup of tea, Miss Dudley? Thank you! That woman hasleft a taste on my palate that all the tea in China will never wash off. Where shall I begin?"

"Where we left off, " said Esther. "We left Mr. Wharton in the church ateleven o'clock, and the woman marching up and down outside. "

"At noon I found her there, and knew her at once, though it is ten yearssince I last saw her. She is a person whom one does not forget. I askedher what she wanted. It seemed that Wharton, in his confusion, had toldher to come to his studio without saying where it was; and she waswaiting for him to come out again. I gave her the address and sent heraway. Then I went up to Wharton whom I found in a strange state of mind;he seemed dazed and showed no interest in the affair. He would not talkof his wife at all until I forced him. At length, after a struggle, ashe said that Miss Dudley had told him to go to her uncle, Mr. Murray, Igot him into a carriage and we drove to Mr. Murray's office. The upshotwas that Mr. Murray and I took the matter into our hands and decided tomeet the woman ourselves in his company. At the hour fixed, we went, allthree of us, to the studio. 

"It needed at least three of us to deal with that one woman. When I sawher in Paris she was still young and handsome, with superb eyes and akind of eastern tread. You could imagine her, when she did not speak, asSemiramis, Medea, Clytemnestra! Except that when you saw a little moreof her, you felt that she was only a heroine of a cheap theater. Whartoncould not have been fascinated by her, if, at that time of his life, hehad ever known a refined woman or mixed at all in the world; but shecertainly had a gypsy charm, and seemed to carry oceans of Sahara andcaravans of camels about with her. When she was in one of her furies, itwas an echo of the whole Greek drama. This, you must recollect, was tenyears ago, and even then she was spoiled by being coarse andmelodramatic, but now she is a horror. She suggests nothing but thepenitentiary. When she saw that there were three of us, she flew into awhirlwind of passion, and screamed French that I was glad to find Icould not wholly understand. Her dialect must come from the worst classof Parisian thieves. I should have been glad to understand less than Idid. Every now and then she interrupted this Billingsgate, and seemed tothink that her dignity required a loftier style, and she poured out onus whole pages of cheap melodrama. She began by flinging her fur cap andcloak on the floor and striking a stage attitude. She wanted to knowwho we were; by what right did we mix ourselves in this affair and comebetween a villain and his victim! Then she turned on Wharton and begangesticulating and throwing herself into contortions like a Maenad, repeating again and again that he was her husband, an 'infâme, ' a'lâche, ' and that she would take his life if she were not given herrights. She drew herself up in all her height, and growled in herdeepest voice: 'Je vais t'écr-r-r-raser!' Then she changed her tone andsobbed violently that on second thoughts she preferred to kill herself, and finally tore a small stage dagger from her breast and proposed tokill us all and herself too. "

"How many did she manage in the end?" asked Mr. Dudley. 

"How did Mr. Wharton bear it?" asked Esther. 

"Wharton stood it very well, " replied Hazard. "He was sitting near her, and now and then she made a rush at him as though she really meant tostrike him. He never moved, or spoke, or took his eyes away from her. Ithink he was overcome by association; he thought himself back in Paristen years ago. "

"Doubtless this excellent woman has faults, owing to a defectiveeducation, " said Mr. Dudley with his usual dry, half-smile. "We mustmake allowances for them. I am more curious to know whether she got thebetter of my astute brother-in-law. "

"Mr. Murray took an unfair advantage over her, " said Hazard. "He hadtaken the precaution to post a police officer in the next room, andafter the woman had exhausted herself, and I think too had worn off theeffects of the brandy she reeked with, he told her that she would goinstantly to the police station if she did not behave herself. I thinkher imagination must have taught her that an American police stationmight be something very terrible, for in a few minutes she quieted downand was only eager for money. "

"I suppose Murray means to terrify this poor creature into a sacrificeof her rights?" said Mr. Dudley. 

"Wharton will have to settle an annuity on her, in order to get her backto Europe and keep her there. In return, she has got to consent to adivorce. Mr. Murray insists on this as his first condition. Whartonbegan to say that she was his wife, and that he was bound to take careof her, until at last Mr. Murray told him to take himself off or hewould have no more to do with the case. So the woman, on receiving somemoney on the spot, consents to deal with Mr. Murray directly, on histerms, and Wharton leaves town till the papers are drawn up and thewoman packed off. He has had a shock which will prevent his working forsome time. "

"He may not feel like painting saints, " said Mr. Dudley, "but I shouldthink he was in good form for painting sinners. Is there no room for aJezebel in your portrait gallery?"

Mr. Dudley was too weak for late hours and Hazard went away early. As hewent he said he would come again to tell them the next chapter, if therewas one. 

"Be quick about it!" said Mr. Dudley. "I am like the Sultan who cut offhis wives' heads because they would not tell him stories fast enough. Itis not convenient for me to wait. "

To Esther this evening was the last when the stars shone bright andclear. The next morning her glimpse of blue sky had vanished and therigor of the storm began. 

She was waked by the news that in the night her father had been seizedby another paroxysm, and that although better, he was excessively weak. He had forbidden his attendants to call her, on the cool calculationthat he should probably pull through this attack, and that she wouldneed all her strength for the next. When Esther came down to his room, she found him in a state of complete prostration, so that his doctorshad forbidden him to speak or even to listen. They no longer talked withhim, but gave their orders to her, and she took charge of the sick-roomat once with all its responsibilities and fatigues. After a consultationof very few moments, the physicians told her plainly that there was nohope; her father might linger a short time, but any sudden emotion wouldkill him on the spot. 

During the day he rallied a little and in the evening was stronger. Esther, who had been all day in his room, rested till midnight and thentook her regular watch by his side. She knew that there was no hope andthat her father himself was only anxious for the end, yet to see himsuffer and slowly fade out was terrible. At such moments, tears areforbidden. Esther had been told that she must not give way toagitation, under the risk of killing her father, who lay dozing, half-conscious, with his face turned towards her. Whenever his eyesopened they rested on hers. In the dim light she watched his motions, and it seemed to her that he was also watching hers. She wonderedwhether he could feel stronger because she was near him. Was he afraid?He, who had never to her knowledge shrunk from any danger, and who inthe army had shown reckless indifference even when he supposed hiswounds to be mortal, was now watching her as though he feared to haveher leave his side. In his extreme weakness, unable to lift his head, his mind evidently beginning to wander, perhaps he felt the need of hercompanionship, and dreaded solitude and death as she did. For half thenight she pondered over this weakening of the will in the face ofomnipotence crushing out the last spark of life, and was doubly startledwhen, the nurse coming to relieve her at six o'clock, she leaned over tokiss her father's forehead and found him looking at her in his oldhumorous way, while, in a low whisper, speaking slowly, as though hewould not yield to the enemy that clutched his heart, he said:

"It's not so bad, Esther, when you come to it. "

The tears started into Esther's eyes. It was only with an effort moreviolent than she had thought was in her power, that she forced herselfto smile. Now that she had come to it, she thought it was very bad;worse than any thing she had ever imagined; she wanted to escape, to runaway, to get out of life itself, rather than suffer such pain, suchterror, such misery of helplessness; but after an instant's pause, herfather whispered again, though his voice died away in weakness:

"Laugh, Esther, when you're in trouble! Say something droll! then you'resafe. I saw the whole regiment laugh under fire at Gettysburg. "

This was more than she could bear, and she had to hurry out of the room. She had fancied him yielding to fear and finding courage in hercompanionship. Suddenly she became aware that, with death's hand on histhroat and a brain reeling in exhaustion, he was trying to teach her howto meet what life had to bring. The lesson was one she could not easilyforget. 

So she went to her bed, in the cold, gray dawn of a winter's day, withthe tears still running down her face. When she woke again the day wasalready waning, a dripping, wasting thaw, when smoking and soot-defiledsnow added sadness to the sad sky. Esther, on opening her eyes, sawCatherine sitting quietly before the fire, reading, or pretending toread. She was keeping guard lest Esther should be disturbed. 

"He is no worse, " she said, when Esther raised her head. "I was at hisdoor five minutes ago. Mrs. Murray is there and so is the doctor. Youare not wanted and they sent word that you were not to be disturbed. "

Esther was glad to lie still a few minutes and collect her strength. Itwas pleasant to look at Catherine, the healthiest and most cheery ofgirls, after having under one's eyes a long night of terror. 

"Professor Strong has been here this morning and I saw him, " ran onCatherine. "He sent for me because he would not have you disturbed. Hegot back from St. Louis last night, and will come round here again thisafternoon. Mr. Hazard has been here, too, and says he shall stop againin the evening. "

This report required no answer. Esther felt the stronger for knowingthat her friends were at her side, and that she could count on theirhelp. Catherine ran on in the same vein. 

"Mr. Hazard says that Mr. Wharton has left town and will not returnuntil Mr. Murray sends for him. I think he might have left some messagefor me, to ask me to be true to him or something, but Mr. Hazard says hejust went off to Boston without a word to any body. I have more thanhalf a mind to desert him and go back to Colorado. "

"If you leave me now, Catherine--"

"Oh! I don't mean to leave you, but I must earn my living. Let me takemy watch with your father to-night! You will think you have struck aprofessional. "

Esther refused, but Catherine did rather more than her share of worknotwithstanding, and more than once Mr. Dudley, opening his eyes, foundher at the head of his bed and greeted her with a faint smile. 

He passed the day without much sign of change. Esther was repeatedlycalled from his side to see persons whom she could not send away. Heraunt was with her till night. Strong came in and sat with her while shetried to dine. So long as day-light lasted she felt no sense ofloneliness or desertion, and her courage remained fairly steady; butwhen she had sent home her aunt and cousin in order to begin her watchearlier than the previous night, her fears returned, her heart sank, andshe begged Catherine to stay with her. The two girls began their watchtogether. Mr. Dudley seemed pleased to have them with him. 

Presently a nurse came with a message that Mr. Hazard was below, and hadasked to see Esther for a moment. Mr. Dudley overheard the message, andwhispered to his daughter:

"Tell him I am sorry not to see him! Say I am just going out!"

He spoke dreamily, as though half asleep, and Esther, as she leaned overhim, trying to catch his words, doubted whether he was quite conscious. He muttered a few more words: "I won't interfere, but the church--. " Shecaught no more, and he dozed off again into silence. After watching hima few moments, Esther beckoned to Catherine to take her chair, andslipped out of the room. She wanted to see Hazard, for, strange as itseemed to her, he had become her most intimate friend, and she could notsend him away at such a moment. 

She found him at the foot of the stairs, and there they remainedstanding for a few moments, talking in low tones, by the light of a dimgas-burner. 

"I want to help you, " he said. "I am used to such scenes and you arenot. You need help though you may not ask for it. "

She shook her head: "I am a miserable coward, " she said; "but we arebeyond help now, and I must learn endurance. "

"You will over-tax your strength, " he urged. "Remember, there is noexcitement so great as to stand for the first time in face of eternity, as you are doing. "

"I suppose it must be so, " she answered. "Every thing seems unreal. Ican't even realize my father's illness. Your voice sounds far-off, asthough you were calling to me out of the distance and darkness. I hardlyknow what we are saying, or why we are here. I never felt so before. "

"It is over-excitement and fatigue, " he replied soothingly. "Do youfeel afraid, too?"

"Terribly!" she answered; "I want to run away. But I think death excitesalmost more than it frightens. My father laughs at it even now. "

"I am more concerned about you, " continued Hazard. "I can do nothing forhim, and you may feel sure that for him all the worst is over. Will youlet me stay here on the chance of your needing help?"

"I have already sent away my aunt and George Strong, " she said. "Do notfeel alarmed about me. Women have more strength than men. "

As he left the house, he thought to himself that this woman at least hadmore strength than most men. He could not forget her pale face, or herdreamy voice and far-off eyes as she had told him her feelings. Mostwomen would have asked him for religious help and consolation. She hadgently put his offers aside. She seemed to him like a wandering soul, lost in infinite space, but still floating on, with her quiet air ofconfidence as though she were a part of nature itself, and felt that allnature moved with her. 

"I almost think, " said Hazard to himself, "that she could give a lessonin strength to me. It seems rather unnecessary, my offering to give oneto her. "

Yet Esther felt little like giving strength to any one. As she returnedto the sick-room and slipped back into the chair which Catherinequitted, the image of Hazard faded from her mind, and the idea that hecould help her, except by his sympathy and friendship, never entered it. After a time her father opened his eyes again and looked at her. Shebent over him, and he whispered: "Give me your hand!" She took his hand, and for some time he lay with his eyes open, as though watching her. Shecould only wonder what was in his mind; perhaps disconnected dreams withintervals of partial consciousness, as now, followed by more vaguevisions and hurrying phantasms; but she imagined that he had meant notso much to ask for the strength of her hand as to give her die will andcourage of his own, and she felt only the wish that he might not doubther answer to the call. Although he soon dozed again, she did not alterher position, but sat hour after hour, only making way for the nursewho came to give him stimulants which had less and less effect. Herwatch ended at two o'clock, when she sent Catherine to bed, but remainedherself until the gray dawn had passed and the sun was high in theheavens. She meant her father to know, as long as he knew any thing, that her hand was in his. Not until the doctor assured her that he wasno longer conscious, did her long walk into the shadow of death at lastend. When Mrs. Murray came, she found Esther still there, her face palerthan ever, with dark rings round her eyes, and looking worn and old. Asshe spoke, her eyes constantly filled with tears, and her nerves werestrung up to a tension which made her aunt promptly intervene and insiston her taking rest. Esther obeyed like a worn-out child. 

So died William Dudley, and was buried under the ice and snow of winter, while his daughter went on alone to meet the buffets of life. It was inthe first days of February that Esther looked about her and seemed tofeel that the world had changed. She said to herself that youth wasgone. What was she to do with middle-life? At twenty-six to be alone, with no one to interpose as much as a shadow across her path, was astrange sensation; it made her dizzy, as though she were a solitary birdflying through mid-air, and as she looked ahead on her aërial path, could see no tie more human than that which bound her to Andromeda andOrion. 

To this moral strain was added the reaction from physical fatigue. For aweek or two after her father's death, Esther felt languid, weary andlistless. She could not sleep. A voice, a bar of music, the sight of anything unusual, affected her deeply. She could not get back to herregular interests. First came the funeral with its inevitable depressionand fatigue; then came days of vacancy, with no appetite for work and nochance for amusement. She took refuge in trifles, but the needle andscissors are terrible weapons for cutting out and trimming not so muchwomen's dresses as their thoughts. She had never been a reader, andperhaps for that reason her mind had all the more run into regions offancy and imagination. She caught half an idea in the air, and tossed itfor amusement. In these days of unrest she tossed her ideas more rapidlythan ever. Most women are more or less mystical by nature, and Estherhad a vein of mysticism running through a practical mind. 

The only person outside her family whom she saw was Hazard. He waseither at the house or in some way near her almost every day. He tookcharge of the funeral services, and came to make inquiries, to bringmessages, or to suggest an occupation, until he was looked upon as oneof the household. Once or twice, the week after the funeral, he came inthe evening, and asked for a cup of tea. Then Catherine sat by and dozedwhile Esther talked mysticism with Hazard, who was himself a mystic ofthe purest water. By this time Esther had learned to look on thephysical life, the daily repetition of breakfast and dinner, as theunreal part of existence, and apologized to herself for conceding somuch to habit, or put it down to Catherine's account. Her illusions werenot serious; perhaps she had for this short instant a flash of truth, and by the light of her father's deathbed, saw life as it is; but, whilethe mood lasted, nothing seemed real except the imagination, and nothingtrue but the spiritual. In this atmosphere Hazard was always happy, forhe reveled in the voluptuousness of poetry, and found peace in the soulof a dandelion; but to share his subtlest fancies with a woman who couldunderstand and feel them, was to reach a height of poetry that trembledon the verge of realizing heaven. His great eyes shone with the radianceof paradise, and his delicate thin features expressed beatitude, as hediscussed with Esther the purity of the soul, the victory of spirit overmatter, and the peace of infinite love. 

Of her regular occupations Esther kept up only such as were duties, butamong them she was true to her little hospital, and went once or twice aweek to see the children who clamored for her visits. She went alone, for she liked solitude, and was glad to give Catherine an excuse forescaping to gayer houses and seeing brighter society. About a fortnightafter her father's death, one Saturday afternoon when she felt moresolitary than ever, and more restless because her long quiet had begunto bring back her strength, she went to the hospital where the childrenwelcomed her with delight. She took her old seat and looked through theyellow eyes of the fire-dogs for inspiration; opened a package anddistributed small presents, little Japanese umbrellas, fans, doll'sshoes and such small change of popularity; and, at last, obeying thecries for more story, she went on with the history of Princess Lovely inher Cocoanut Island, besieged by whales and defended by talkingelephants and monkeys. She had hardly begun when the door opened andagain Mr. Hazard entered. This time Esther blushed. 

Hazard sat down, and finding that she soon tired of story-telling, hetook it up, and gave a chapter of his own which had wild success, sothat the children begged for more and more, until five o'clock was pastand twilight coming on. As Esther was on foot, Mr. Hazard said he wouldsee her to her door, and they walked away together. 

"Do you know that Wharton has come back?" said he as they reached thestreet. "His affair is settled; the woman sailed yesterday for Europe, and he is to have a divorce. Your uncle has managed it very well. "

"Will Mr. Wharton go to work again at the church?" asked Esther. 

"He begins at once. He asked me to find out for him whether you wouldbegin with him. "

"Did he say whether he wanted me or Catherine?" asked Esther with alaugh. 

Hazard laughed in reply. "I think myself he would be satisfied to getMiss Brooke, but you must not underrate your own merits. He wants youboth. "

"I am afraid he must give us up, " said Esther, with a little sigh. "Certainly I can't come, and if he wants Catherine, he will have to comehimself and get her; but he will find Catherine not easy to get. "

They discussed Wharton and his affairs till they reached Esther's house, and she said: "It is not yet six o'clock. I can give you a cup of tea ifyou will come in?"

She could not do less than offer him this small hospitality, andyet--Catherine was not at home. They went up to the library, and Estherordered tea to be brought. She took off her bonnet and cloak, and threwthem on a chair. She sat down before the fire, and he stood on thehearth-rug looking at her while she made tea in the twilight. At thismoment he was more hopelessly in love than any other Church of Englandclergyman within the diocese of New York. 

"What are then your plans for the future?" he asked, after they hadchatted for some time on the subject of Esther's painting. "If you willnot return to help us, what do you look forward to doing?"

"I want to take Catherine and go abroad, " answered Esther. "If I can getmy uncle and aunt to go, we shall start in the spring. "

At this announcement Hazard seemed to receive a shock. He turnedsuddenly to her, his eyes sparkling with passion: "Take me with you!What shall I do without you!" He seized her hand and poured out atorrent of broken protests: "I love you with all my heart and soul!Don't leave me alone in this horrible city! I shall die of disgust ifyou desert me! You are the only woman I ever loved! Ah! You must loveme!"

Esther, trembling, bewildered, carried away by this sudden and violentattack, made at first a feeble effort to withdraw her hand and to gasp aprotest, but the traitor within her own breast was worse than the enemywithout. For the moment all her wise resolutions were swept away in awave of tenderness; she seemed to come suddenly on a summer sea, sparkling with hope and sunshine, the dreary sand-banks of her old lifevanishing like a dream. She shut her eyes and found herself in his arms. Then in terror at what she had done, she tried again to draw back. 

"No, no!" she said rapidly, trying to free herself. "You must not loveme! You must let me go!"

"I love you! I adore you! I will never let you go!"

"You must! You do not know what you are doing! Ah! Let me go!"

"Tell me first that you love me!"

"No, no! I am not good enough for you. You must love some one who hasher heart in your work. "

"Tell me that you love me!" repeated Hazard. 

"You do not know me! You must not love me! I shall ruin your life! Ishall never satisfy you!"

Hazard caressed her only the more tenderly as he answered with theself-confidence which he put into all he did: "If my calling is so poora thing that it cannot satisfy both our lives, I will have nothing moreto do with it. I have more faith in us both. Promise to love me and Iwill take care of the rest. "

"Ah!" gasped Esther, carried away by her own feelings and the vehemenceof his love: "I am getting in deeper and deeper! What shall I do? Do notmake me promise!"

"Then I will promise for both!" he said; and poor Esther ceased tostruggle. 

The same evening at dinner, Mrs. Murray remarked to her husband that shewas becoming more and more uneasy about Esther's intimacy with Mr. Hazard. 

"People are talking about it, " she said. "It is really becoming a matterof public discussion. "

"Do you suppose she would accept him?" asked Mr. Murray. 

"How can I tell? She would say no, and then very likely do it. She is inthe worst sort of a state of mind for an offer of that kind. "

"Poor Dudley will rise from his grave, " said Mr. Murray. 

"He warned me to prevent such a match if I saw it coming, " said Mrs. Murray; "but he did nothing to prevent it himself. He thought Esther wasgoing to be very unhappy, and would make some such mistake. I wouldinterfere, but it will only make matters worse. The thing has gone toofar now. "

"Take her away, " said Mr. Murray. 

"Where to? If you will go to Europe in the spring, we will take her overand leave her there with Catherine, but she may be married by thattime. "

"Give her a lecture, " said Mr. Murray. "Show her that she is making astupendous blunder!"

"Better show him!" said Mrs. Murray with a little resentment. "Theblunder will be worse for him than for her. "

"Explain it to her!" said he. "She has sense. Esther is a good girl, andI won't stand by and see her throw herself away on a church. I willspeak to her myself if you don't. "

"A nice piece of work you would make of it!" rejoined his wife. "No! Ifit is to be done, I suppose I must do it, but she will hate me all herlife. "

"Do it at once, then, " said Mr. Murray. "The longer you put it off, theworse she will take it. "

"I will talk with her to-morrow, " replied Mrs. Murray; and the nextday, when she went to take Esther to drive in the afternoon, her niecereceived her with an embarrassed air and a high color, and said:

"Aunt! I have something to tell you. "

"Good heavens!" gasped Mrs. Murray. 

"I am engaged to Mr. Hazard. "

_Chapter VII_

The instant Esther felt herself really loved, she met her fate as womenwill when the shock is once over. Hazard had wanted her to love him, hadpursued and caught her. Now when she turned to him and answered hiscall, she seemed to take possession of him and lift him up. By the timehe left her house this Saturday evening, he felt that he had found asoul stronger and warmer than his own, and was already a little afraidof it. Every man who has at last succeeded, after long effort, incalling up the divinity which lies hidden in a woman's heart, isstartled to find that he must obey the God he summoned. 

Esther herself was more astonished than Hazard at the force of thisfeeling which swept her away. She suddenly found herself passionatelyattached to a man, whom, down to the last moment, she had thought shecould never marry, and now could no more imagine life without him thanshe could conceive of loving any one else. For the moment she thoughtthat his profession was nothing to her; she could believe whatever hebelieved and do whatever he did; and if her love, backed by her will, were not strong enough to make his life her own, she cared little whatbecame of her, and could look with indifference on life itself. So faras she was concerned she thought herself ready to worship Woden or Thor, if he did. 

The next morning she could not let him preach without being near him, and she made Catherine go with her to St. John's. They took their seats, not in her own pew but in a corner, where no one should notice themunder their veils. The experiment was full of peril, though Esther didnot know it. This new excitement, coming so swiftly after a fortnight ofexhaustion, threw her back into a state of extreme nervousness. Ofcourse the scene of Saturday evening was followed by a sleepless night, and when Sunday morning came, her very restlessness made her hope thatshe should find repose and calm within the walls of the church. She wentbelieving that she needed nothing so much as the quieting influence ofthe service, and she was not disappointed, for her sweetestassociations were here, and as she glanced timidly up to thescaffolding where her romance had been acted, she felt at home andhappy, in spite of the crowd of people who swarmed about her andseparated her from the things she loved. In the background stood thesolemn and awful associations of the last few weeks, the mysteries andterrors of death, drawing her from thought of earthly things to visionsof another world. Full of these deep feelings, saturated with the elixirof love, Esther succumbed to the first notes of the church music. Tearsof peaceful delight stood in her eyes. She glanced up towards herCecilia on the distant wall, wondering at its childishness. How deep ameaning she could give it now, and how religious a feeling!

She was not conscious of rustling silks or waving feathers; she hardlysaw the swarm of fashionable people about her; it seemed to her that herold life had vanished as though she were dead; her soul might have takenshelter in the body of some gray linnet for all that she thought orcared about the vanities of human society. She wanted only to be lovedand to love, without being thought of, or noticed; to nestle in her owncorner, and let the world go by. 

Unluckily the world would not go by. This world which she wanted to keepat arms' length, was at church once for all, and meant to stay there; itfelt itself at home, and she, with her exclusive griefs and joys, wasthe stranger. So long as the music lasted, all was sympathetic enough, but when Mr. Hazard read the service, he seemed far-off and strange. Hebelonged not to her but to the world; a thousand people had rights ofproperty in him, soul and body, and called their claim religion. Whathad she to do with it? Parts of the service jarred on her ear. She beganto take a bitter pleasure in thinking that she had nothing, not evenreligious ideas, in common with these people who came between her andher lover. Her fatigue steadily worked on her nerves. By the time thecreed was read, she could not honestly feel that she believed a word ofit, or could force herself to say that she ever should believe it. 

With fading self-confidence she listened to the sermon. It wasbeautiful, simple, full of feeling and even of passion, but she feltthat it was made for her, and she shrank before the thousand people whowere thus let into the secret chambers of her heart. It treated of deathand its mystery, covering ignorance with a veil of religious hope, andending with an invocation of infinite love so intense in feeling andexpression that, beautiful as it was, Esther forgot its beauties in thefear that the next word would reveal her to the world. This sort ofpublicity was new to her, and threw her back on herself until religionwas forgotten in the alarm. She became more jealous than ever. Whatbusiness had these strangers with her love? Why should she share it withthem? When the service was over, she hurried Catherine away so quicklythat they were both at home before the church was fairly empty. 

This was the end of her short happiness. She knew that through thechurch door lay the only road to her duty and peace of mind. To see thatthe first happy impression had lasted barely half an hour, and insteadof bringing peace, had brought irritation, was cause enough to alarm themost courageous young woman who ever rushed into the maelstrom ofmatrimony. 

When they had reached home, she flung herself into a chair and coveredher face with her hands. 

"Catherine!" said she solemnly; "what am I to do? I don't like church. "

"You would like your's amazingly, " said Catherine, "if you had ever beento mine. "

"Was your's worse?"

"If Mrs. Murray hadn't improved my manners so much, I should smile. Wasmine worse? I wish you and Mr. Hazard would try it for a change. Mrs. Dyer would like to see you both undergoing discipline. Never joke aboutserious matters! You had better hold your tongue and be glad to live ina place where your friends let your soul alone. "

"But I can't sit still and hear myself turned into a show! I can't sharehim with all Fifth Avenue. I want no one else to have him. To see himthere devoting himself and me to a stupid crowd of people, who have asmuch right to him as I have, drives religion out of my head. "

Catherine treated this weakness with high contempt. 

"I might as well be jealous, " said she, "of the people who look at Mr. Wharton's pictures, or read Petrarch's sonnets in my sweet translation. Did you ever hear that Laura found fault with Petrarch, or, if she did, that any one believed she was in earnest?"

"It is not the same thing, " said Esther. "He believes in his church morethan he does in me. If I can't believe in it, he will have to give meup. "

"He, give you up!" said Catherine. "The poor saint! You know he is sillyabout you. "

"He must give me up, if I am jealous of his congregation, and won'tbelieve what he preaches, " replied Esther mournfully. 

"Why should you care what he preaches?" asked Catherine; "you neverheard your aunt troubling her head about what Mr. Murray says when hegoes to court. "

"She is not forced to go to court with him, " said Esther; "nor to be amother to all the old women in the court-room; nor to say that shebelieves--believes--believes--when in her heart she doesn't believe aword. "

Hazard appeared in the middle of this dispute, and Esther, troubled asshe was, could not bear to distress him. She still meant to accept everything and force herself to follow him in silence; she would go where heled, and never once raise her eyes to look for the horizon. As she saidto herself quite seriously, though with a want of reverence that auguredill; "I will go down on my knees and help him, though he turn Bonze andburn incense to Buddha in my very studio!" His presence always soothedher. His gayety and affection never failed to revive her spirits andconfidence. 

"Wasn't it a good sermon?" said he to Catherine as he came in, with hisboyish laugh of triumph. "Give me a little praise! I never got a word ofencouragement from you in my life. "

"I should as soon think of encouraging a whole herd of Texas cattle, "answered Catherine. "What good can my praise do you?"

"You child of nature, don't you know that children of nature like youalways grow wild and need no cultivation, but that we artificial flowerscan't live without it?"

"I don't know how to cultivate, " answered Catherine; "it is Esther youare thinking about. "

Having announced this self-evident fact, Catherine walked off and lefthim to quiet Esther's alarms as he could. As she went she heard him turnto Esther and repeat his prayer that she should be gentle with him andgive his sermon a word of praise. 

"How can I stop to think whether it is good or not, " said Esther, "whenI hear you telling all our secrets to our whole visiting list? I couldthink of nothing but myself, and how I could get away. "

"And whose secrets can I tell if not our own?" asked Hazard triumphant. 

While he was with her Esther was peaceful and happy, but no sooner hadhe gone than her terrors began again. 

"He will find me out, Catherine, and it will break my heart, " she said. "I never knew I had a jealous temper. I am horribly narrow-minded. I'mnot fit for him, and I knew it when he asked me. He will hate me when hefinds what a wife he has got. "

Catherine, who positively declined to recognize Mr. Hazard's superiorityof mind over Esther, took this with unshaken fortitude. "If you canstand it, I guess he can, " she remarked curtly. "Where do you expect thepoor man to get a wife, if all of us say we are not fit for him?"

This view of the case amused Esther for a time, but not for long--thematter was too serious for any treatment but a joke, and joking made itmore serious still. Try which way she would there was no escape from heranxiety. Hazard, who had foreseen some trouble from her old associationswith loose religious opinion, had taken it for granted, with his usualself-confidence, that from the moment she came within the reach of hisfaith and took a place by his side she would find no difficulties thathe could not easily overcome. "Love is the great magnet of life, andReligion, " he said "is Love. " Nothing could be simpler than his plan, ashe explained to her. She had but to trust herself to him and all wassure to go well. So long as he was with her and could gently thrustaside every idea but that of their own happiness, all went as well as hepromised; but unluckily for his plan, Esther had all her life been usedto act for herself and to order others rather than take orders of anysort. The more confidently Hazard told her to leave every thing to him, the less it occurred to her to do so. She could no more allow him tocome into her life and take charge of her thoughts than to go down intoher kitchen and take charge of her cook. He might reason with her by thehour, and quite convince her that nothing was of the least consequenceprovided it were left entirely in his hands, but the moment he was outof sight she forgot that he was to be the keeper of her conscience, and, without a thought of her dependence, she resumed the charge of her ownaffairs. 

Her first idea was to learn something of theology, in the hope ofsettling her foolish and ignorant doubts as to her fitness for her newposition. No sooner did the thought occur to her than she set to work, like a young divinity student, to fit herself for her new calling. Herfather's library contained a number of theological books, but these wereof a kind that suited Mr. Dudley's way of thinking rather than that ofthe early fathers. As Esther knew nothing at all about the subject, except what she had gathered from listening to conversation, one bookseemed to her as good as another, provided it dealt with the matter thatinterested her; but when Hazard came in and found her seated on a sofa, with a pile of these works about her, his hair rose on end, and he wasforced gently to take them away under the promise of bringing her othersof a more correct kind. These in their turn seemed to her not quiteclear, and she asked for others still. He found himself, withoutwarning, on the brink of a theological abyss. Unwilling to worry him;eager to accept whatever he told her he believed, but in despair at eachfailure to understand what it was, Esther became more and moreuncomfortable and terrified. 

"What would you do, Catherine, if you were in my place?" she asked. 

"Let it alone!" said Catherine. "You didn't ask him to marry you. If hewants you, it's his business to suit himself to you. "

"But I must go to his church, " said Esther, "and sit at his communion. "

"How many people at his church could tell you what they believe?" askedCatherine. "Your religion is just as good as theirs as long as you don'tknow what it is. "

"One learns theology fast when one is engaged to be married, " saidEsther with a repentant face. 

She was already sorry that she had tried to learn any thing about thesubject, for she already knew too much, and yet a terrible fascinationimpelled her to read on about the nature of the trinity and theauthority of tradition, until she lost patience with her own stupidityand burned to know what other people had to say on such matters. Itoccurred to her that she should like to have a quiet talk with GeorgeStrong. 

Meanwhile Mrs. Murray, panic-stricken at learning the engagement, hadsent at once for George. The messenger reached him on Sunday evening, afew hours after Esther told her aunt. Mystified by the urgent tone ofMrs. Murray's note, Strong came up at once, and found his uncle and auntalone, after dinner, in their parlor, where Mr. Murray was quietlysmoking a cigar, while his wife was holding a book in her hand andlooking hard into the fire. 

"George!" said his aunt solemnly; "do you know the mischief you and yourfriends have done?"

Strong stared. "You don't mean to tell me that Catherine has run offwith Wharton?" said he. "She can't have done it, for I left Wharton notfifteen minutes ago at the club. "

"No, not that! thank Heaven! Though if she hadn't more head than ever hehad, that French wife of his might have given her more unhappiness thanhe is worth. No, it's not that! Catherine is the only sensible creaturein the family. "

Strong glared into the fire for a moment with a troubled air, and thenlooked at his aunt again. "No!" said he. "Esther hasn't joined thechurch. It can't be!"

"Yes!" said Mrs. Murray grimly. 

"Caramba!" growled Strong, with a profusion of Spanish gutturals. Thenafter a moment's reflection, he added: "Poor child! Why should I care?"

"You irritate me more than your uncle does, " broke out Mrs. Murray, atlast losing patience. "Do you think I should be so distressed if Estherhad only joined the church? I should like nothing better. What hashappened is very different. She is engaged to Mr. Hazard. "

Strong broke into a laugh, and Mr. Murray, with a quiet chuckle ofhumor, took his cigar out of his mouth to say:

"Let me explain this little matter to you, George! What troubles youraunt is not so much that Esther has joined the church as that she fearsthe church has joined Esther. "

"The church has struck it rich this time;" remarked Strong without asign of his first alarm. "Now we'll see what they'll make of her. "

"The matter is too serious for joking;" said Mrs. Murray. "Either Estherwill be unhappy for life, or Mr. Hazard will leave his church, or theywill both be miserable whatever they do. I think you are bound toprevent it, since you are the one most to blame for getting them intoit. "

"I don't want to prevent it;" replied Strong. "It's a case of survivalfor the fittest. If Hazard can manage to convert Esther, let him do it. If not, let her take him in charge and convert him if she can. I'll notinterfere. "

"That is just the remark I had the honor to make to your aunt as youcame in, " said Mr. Murray. "Yesterday I wanted to stop it. To-day I wantto leave it alone. They are both of them old enough to manage their owncase. It has risen now to the dignity of a great cause, and I will bethe devil's advocate. "

"You are both of you intolerable, " said Mrs. Murray, impatiently. "Youtalk about the happiness of Esther's life as though it were a game ofpoker. Tell me, George! what kind of a man is Mr. Hazard at heart?"

"Hazard is a priest at heart, " replied Strong. "He has the qualities andfaults of his class. I understand how this thing happened. He seesnothing good in the world that he does not instantly covet for the gloryof God and the church, and just a bit for his own pleasure. He sawEsther; she struck him as something out of his line, for he is used toyoung women who work altar-cloths; he found that Wharton and I likedher; he thought that such material was too good for heathen like us; sohe fell in love with her himself and means to turn her into acandlestick of the church. I don't mind. Let him try! He has done whathe liked with us all his life. I have worked like a dog for him and hischurch because he was my friend. Now he will see whether he has met hismatch. I double you up all round on Esther. "

"You men are simply brutal!" said his aunt. "Esther will be an unhappywoman all her life, whether she marries him or not, and you sit thereand will not raise a finger to help her. "

"Let him convert her, I say;" repeated Strong. "What is your objectionto that, aunt Sarah?"

"My objection is that the whole family is only a drove of mules, " saidMrs. Murray. "Poor Mr. Hazard does not know what he is undertaking. "

"Is Esther very much in love?" asked Strong. 

"You know her well enough to know that she would never have accepted himif she were not;" replied Mrs. Murray. "He has hunted her down when shewas unhappy, and he is going to make her more unhappy still. "

"I guess you're right, " said Strong, seriously. "The struggle is goingto tear both their poor little hearts out; but what can we do about it?None of us are to blame. "

"Ah, George!" exclaimed his aunt. "You are the one most to blame. Youshould have married Esther yourself, and you had not wit enough to seethat while you went dancing round the world, as though such women wereplenty as your old fossil toads, the only woman you will ever meet whocould have made you happy, was slipping through your fingers, and youhadn't the strength to hold her. "

"I own it, aunt Sarah!" said George, and this time he spoke seriouslyenough to satisfy her. "If I could have fallen in love with Esther andshe with me, I believe it would have been better for both of us thanthat she should marry a high-church parson and I go on digging bones;but some things are too obvious. You can't get a spark without somebreak in your conductor. I was ready enough to fall in love with Esther, but one can't do that kind of thing in cold blood. "

"Well, " said Mrs. Murray with a sigh. "You have lost her now, and Mr. Hazard will lose her too. You and he and all your friends are a sort ofclever children. We are always expecting you to do something worthdoing, and it never comes. You are a sort of water-color, worsted-work, bric-à-brac, washed-out geniuses, just big enough and strong enough towant to do something and never carry it through. I am heartily tired ofthe whole lot of you, and now I must set to work and get these two girlsout of your hands. "

"Do you mean to break up this engagement?" asked Strong, who was usedto his aunt's criticisms and never answered them. 

"The engagement will break itself up, " replied his aunt. "It will haveto be kept private for a few weeks on account of her father's death andher mourning, and you will see that it never will be announced. If Ican, I shall certainly do all in my power to break it up. "

"You will?" said Strong. "Well! I mean to do just the contrary. IfEsther wants Hazard she shall have him, if I can help her. Why not?Hazard is a good fellow, and will make her a good husband. I have nofault to find with him except that he poaches outside his preserves. Hehas poached this time to some purpose, but if the parish can stand it, Ican. "

"The parish cannot stand it, " said Mrs. Murray. "They are saying veryugly things already about Esther. "

"Then it will not hurt my feelings to see Hazard snub his congregation, "replied Strong angrily. 

The family conclave ended here, and all parties henceforward fixed theireyes intently on the drama. Mrs. Murray waited with a woman's instinctfor her moment to come. Strong tried to counteract her influence bybungling efforts to make the lovers' path smooth. Catherine was a sortof cushion against which all the billiard balls of the game knockedthemselves in succession, leaving her cool and elastic temperundisturbed. Three more days passed without throwing much new light onthe disputed question whether the engagement could last, except thatEsther seemed clearly more anxious and restless. Mr. Hazard was with herseveral hours every day and watched over her with extreme vigilance. Mrs. Murray took her to drive every afternoon and not a glance ofEsther's eyes escaped scrutiny. Strong stopped once or twice at thehouse but had no chance to interfere until on Thursday morning, his aunttold him that Esther was rapidly getting into a state of mind that mustsoon bring on a crisis. 

"She cannot possibly make it do, " said Mrs. Murray. "She is worryingherself to death already. Mr. Hazard ought to see that she can't marryhim. "

"She will marry him, " answered Strong coolly. "Three women out of fourthink they can't marry a man at first, but when they come to partingwith him, they learn better. "

"He is passably selfish, your Mr. Hazard. If he thought a little moreof his parish, he would not want to put over them a woman like Estherwho has not a quality suited to the place. "

"Her qualities are excellent, " contradicted Strong. "Once in harness shewill be kind and gentle, a little tender-mouthed perhaps, and apt to shyat first, but thorough-bred. He is quite right to take her if he can gether, and what does his parish expect to do about it?"

"The first thing they will do about it will be to make Esther miserable. They have begun to gossip already. A young man, even though he is aclergyman, can't be seen always in company with a pretty woman, withoutexciting remark. Only yesterday I was asked point-blank whether my niecewas engaged to Mr. Hazard. "

"What did you say?"

"I told a lie of course, all the meaner because it was an equivocation. I said that Mr. Hazard had not honored me with any communication on thesubject. I score up this first falsehood to his account. "

"If you lie no better than that, Aunt Sarah, Hazard's conscience won'ttrouble him much. When is the engagement to be out?"

"Very soon, at this rate. I thought that Esther, in common decency, could not announce it for a week or two, but every one already suspectsit, and she will have to make it public within another week if she meansto do so at all. Now that she is her own mistress and lives by herself, she can't have men so much about the house as she might if her fatherwere living. "

"Do you seriously think she will break it off?" asked Strongincredulously. 

"I feel surer than ever, " answered his aunt. "The criticism is going tobe bitter, and the longer Esther waits, the more sharply people willtalk. I should not wonder if it ended by driving Mr. Hazard out of theparish. He is not strong enough to shock them much. Then Esther isgrowing more and more nervous every day because the more she tries tounderstand, the less she succeeds. Yesterday, when I took her to drive, she was in tears about the atonement, and to-day I suppose she willhave gone to bed with a sick headache on account of the Athanasiancreed. "

"I must talk with her, " said Strong. "I think I can make some of thosethings easier for her. "

"You? I thought you laughed at them all. "

"So I do, but not because they can't be understood. The trouble is thatI think I do understand them. Mystery for mystery science beats religionhollow. I can't open my mouth in my lecture-room without repeating tentimes as many unintelligible formulas as ever Hazard is forced to do inhis church. I can quiet her mind on that score. "

"You had better leave it alone, George! Why should you meddle? Let Mr. Hazard fight his own battles!"

George refused to take this wise advice. He was a tender-hearted fellowand could not bear to see his friends suffer. If Esther loved Hazard andwanted to marry him, she should do so though every dogma of the churchstood in her way, and every old woman in the parish shrieked sacrilege. Strong had no respect for the church and no wish to save it trouble, buthe believed that Hazard was going blindly under Esther's influence whichwould sooner or later end by drawing him away from his old forms ofbelief; and as this was entirely Hazard's affair, if he chose to riskthe danger, Strong chose to help him. 

"Why not?" said Strong to himself. "It is not a question of earning aliving. Both of them are well enough off. If he can turn her into alight of his church, let him do it. If she ends in dragging him out ofthe church, so much the better. She can't get a better husband, and hecan't find a better wife. I mean to see this thing through. "

So George strolled round to Esther's house after this interview with hisaunt, thinking that he might be able to do good. Being at home there, hewent up-stairs unannounced, and finding no one in the library he climbedto the studio, where, on opening the door, he saw Catherine sittingbefore the fire, looking very much bored. Poor Catherine found it hardto keep up with life in New York. Fresh from the prairie, she had beenfirst saturated with art, and was now plunged in a bottomless ocean oftheology. She was glad to see Strong who had in her eyes the advantageof being more practical than the rest of her friends. 

"Catherine, how are your sheep?"

"I am glad you have come to look after them, " answered Catherine. "Iwon't be watch-dog much longer. They are too troublesome. "

"What mischief are they doing now?"

"Every thing they can think of to worry me. Esther won't eat and can'tsleep, and Mr. Hazard won't sleep and can't eat. She tries not to worryhim, so she comes down on me with questions and books enough to frightena professor. Do tell me what to say!"

"Where are your questions?" asked Strong. 

"This morning she wanted to know what I thought of apostolic succession. She said she was reading some book by a Dr. Newman. What is apostolicsuccession?"

"A curious disease, quite common among the poorer classes of SandwichIslanders, " replied Strong. "No one has ever found a cure for it. "

"Don't laugh at us! We do nothing but cry now, except when Mr. Hazard ishere, and then we pretend to be happy. When Esther cries, I cry too. That makes her laugh. It's our only joke, and we used to have so many. "

"Don't you think it rather a moist joke?" asked Strong. "I take minedry. "

"I can't tell what she will think a joke, " replied Catherine. "She askedme to-day what was my idea of heaven, and I said it was reading novelsin church. She seemed to think this a rich bonanza of a joke, andlaughed herself into hysterics, but I was as serious as Mr. Wharton'sapostles. "

"You are never so funny as when you are serious. Never be so any more!Why don't you get her to paint?"

"She won't. I'm rather glad of it, for if she did, I should have to sitfor melancholy, or an angel, or something I'm not fitted for byeducation. "

"What shall we do about it?" asked Strong. "Things can't go on in thisway. "

"I think the engagement had better come out, " said Catherine. "Thelonger it is kept private, the more she will doubt whether she ought tomarry a clergyman. What do you think about marrying clergymen? Wouldn'tit almost be better to marry a painter, or even a professor?"

"That would be playing it too low down, " replied Strong gravely. "Iwould recommend you to look out for a swell. What has become of youradmirer, Mr. Van Dam?"

"Gone!" said Catherine sadly. "Mr. Wharton and he went off together. There is something about me that scares them all off the ranche. "

While they were thus improving each other's minds, the door opened andEsther entered. She was pale and her face had no longer the bright lookwhich Wharton had thought so characteristic, but there was no other signof trouble about her, and she welcomed her cousin as pleasantly as ever, so that he could hardly believe in the stories he had just heard of herdistress. 

"Good day, Cousin George, " she said. "Thank you for coming to cheer upthis poor girl. She needs it. Do take her out and amuse her. "

"Come out yourself, Esther. You need it more than she does. "

"Aunt Sarah is coming at two o'clock to take me to drive, " said Esther. "Catherine hates driving unless she drives herself. "

"I thought you hated it too. "

"Oh, I hate nothing now, " replied Esther, with a little of her oldlaugh. "I am learning to like every thing. "

"Is that in the marriage service?" asked Strong. "Do you have to beginso high up? Couldn't you start easy, and like a few things first, --mefor instance--and let the rest wait?"

"No, " she said, "you are to come last. Honestly, I am more afraid of youthan of all the rest of the world. If you knew what a bug-bear you areto me, you would be afraid of yourself. Don't make fun of me any more! Iknow I am horribly funny, but you must take me in earnest. Poor papa'slast words to me were: 'Laugh and you're safe!'--but if I laugh now, I'mlost. "

"This is the first time I ever met any one honest enough to acknowledgethat marriage was so sad a thing. Catherine, if I ask you to marry me, will you turn serious?"

"She will turn serious enough if she does it, " said Esther. "You wouldstay with her a week, and then tell her that you were obliged to see afriend in Japan. She would never see you again, but the newspapers wouldtell her that you had set out to look for bones in the Milky Way. "

"What you say sounds to me as though it had a grain of truth, " repliedStrong. "That reminds me that I got a letter telling me of a lot of newbones only yesterday, but I must leave them underground till the summer;if by that time I can do any thing for you in Oregon, let me know. "

"I want you very much to do something for me now, " said Esther. "Willyou try to be serious a moment for my sake?"

"I don't know, " said Strong. "You ask too much all at once. Where areyou coming out?"

"Will you answer me a question? Say yes or no!"

"That depends on the question, Mistress Esther! Old birds are not to becaught in old traps. State your question, as we say in thelecture-room. "

"Is religion true?"

"I thought so! Cousin Esther, I love you as much as I love any one inthis cold world, but I can't answer your question. I can tell you allabout the mound-builders or cave-men, so far as known, but I could nottell you the difference between the bones of a saint and those of aheathen. Ask me something easier! Ask me whether science is true!"

"Is science true?"

"No!"

"Then why do you believe in it?"

"I don't believe in it. "

"Then why do you belong to it?"

"Because I want to help in making it truer. Now, Esther, just take thismatter coolly! You are bothered, I suppose, by the idea that you can'tpossibly believe in miracles and mysteries, and therefore can't make agood wife for Hazard. You might just as well make yourself unhappy bydoubting whether you would make a good wife to me because you can'tbelieve the first axiom in Euclid. There is no science which does notbegin by requiring you to believe the incredible. "

"Are you telling me the truth?"

"I tell you the solemn truth that the doctrine of the Trinity is not sodifficult to accept for a working proposition as any one of the axiomsof physics. The wife of my mathematical colleague, to my knowledge, never even stopped to ask whether it was true that a point had neitherlength, breadth nor thickness. "

Esther pondered a few moments, looking into the fire with a grave face. Then she went on:

"You are not talking honestly. Why should I dare tell you that your oldfossil bones are a humbug, when I would not for the world talk so to Mr. Hazard? You don't care whether geology is true or not. "

"Well, no, not much!" said Strong. "I should care more if you told methat my best Japanese lacquer was modern. "

"Besides, " said Esther; "you have not answered my question. I want toknow what you think, and you won't tell me. Oh! don't let me lose faithin you too! I know your opinions. You think the whole church a piece ofsuperstition. I've heard you say so, and I want you to tell me why. You're my cousin and I've a right to your help, but you won't give it. "

"You are a desperate little tyrant, " said Strong laughing. "You alwayswere. Do you remember how we fought when we were children because youwould have your own way? I used to give in then, but I am old now, andobstinate. "

"I know that you always ended by making me go your way, " replied Esther;"but that was because I never cared much where I went. Now it is amatter of life and death. I can't move a step, or even let ourengagement be announced until I feel sure that I shall not be a load onhis neck. Do you think I should hesitate to break it off, even if Ibroke my heart with it, if I thought it was going to bring trouble onhim?"

Against this assault jesting was out of the question. Strong was forcedout of this line of defense and found himself in an awkward position. Esther, not outwardly excited, but leaning her chin on her hand, andgazing into the fire with a look of set will, had the calmness ofdespair. Strong was staggered and hesitated. 

"The trouble with you is that you start wrong, " said he at length. "Youneed what is called faith, and are trying to get it by reason. It can'tbe done. Faith is a state of mind, like love or jealousy. You can neverreason yourself into it. "

"So Mr. Hazard says, " rejoined Esther. "He tells me to wait and it willcome, but he wants me to go on just as though I were certain of itscoming. I can't wait. If it does not come quickly, I must do somethingdesperate. Now tell me what you would do to get faith if the happinessof your whole life hung on it. "

Strong rose uneasily from his seat and stood up before the fire. Hebegan to think himself rash for venturing into this arena. He had alwaysbelieved his cousin to be stronger than Hazard, because Hazard was aclergyman, but he had not hitherto thought her stronger than himself, and he now looked at her carefully, wondering whether he could havemanaged her. Never in his life had he felt so nearly in love with her asnow, under the temptation to try whether she could be made to give upher will to his. This feeling was the stronger because even in his owneyes his conduct so far seemed a little cowardly and ridiculous. Hepulled himself up sharply, and, seeing nothing else to be done, he tookup the weapons of the church and asserted the tone of authority. 

"Every one who marries, " he said, "goes it blind, more or less. If youhave faith enough in Hazard to believe in him, you have faith enough toaccept his church. Faith means submission. Submit!"

"I want to submit, " cried Esther piteously, rising in her turn andspeaking in accents of real distress and passion. "Why can't some of youmake me? For a few minutes at a time I think it done, and then Isuddenly find myself more defiant than ever. I want nothing of thechurch! Why should it trouble me? Why should I submit to it? Why can'tit leave me alone?"

"What you want is the Roman church, " continued Strong mercilessly. "Theyknow how to deal with pride of will. Millions of men and women have gonethrough the same struggle, and the church tells them to fix their eyeson a symbol of faith, and if their eyes wander, scourges them for it. "As he talked, he took up the little carved ivory crucifix which stood onthe mantel-piece among other bits of studio furniture, and holding it upbefore her, said: "There! How many people do you think, have come tothis Christ of yours that has no meaning to you, and in their strugglewith doubt, have pressed it against their hearts till it drew blood? Askit!"

"Is that all?" said Esther, taking the crucifix from his hand andlooking curiously at it. Then she silently put it against her heart andpressed it with more and more force, until Strong caught her hand inalarm and pulled it away. 

"Come!" said he coolly, as he forced her to give up the crucifix; "mylittle bluff has failed. I throw up the hand. You must play it out withHazard. "

_Chapter VIII_

Mr. Hazard was not happy. Like Esther he felt himself getting into astate of mind that threatened to break his spirit. He had been used toordering matters much as he pleased. His parish at Cincinnati, being hiscreation, had been managed by him as though he owned it, but at St. John's he found himself less free, and was conscious of incessantcriticism. He had been now some months in his new pulpit; his popularsuccess had been marked; St. John's was overflowing with a transientaudience, like a theater, to the disgust of regular pew-owners; hispersonal influence was great; but he felt that it was not yet, andperhaps never could be, strong enough to stand the scandal of hismarriage to a woman whose opinions were believed to be radical. On thispoint he was not left in doubt, for the mere suspicion of his engagementraised a little tempest in the pool. The stricter sect, not withoutreason, were scandalized. They held to their creed, and the bare mentionof Esther Dudley's name called warm protests from their ranks. Theyflatly said that it would be impossible for Mr. Hazard to make thembelieve his own doctrine to be sound, if he could wish to enter intosuch a connection. None but a free-thinker could associate with the setof free-thinkers, artists and other unusual people whose society Mr. Hazard was known to affect, and his marriage to one of them would givethe unorthodox a hold on the parish which would end by splitting it. 

One of his strongest friends, who had done most to bring him to New Yorkand make his path pleasant, came to him with an account of what was saidand thought, softening the expression so as to bear telling. 

"You ought to hear about it, " said he, "so I tell you; but it is betweenyou and me. I don't ask whether you are engaged to Miss Dudley. For myown pleasure, I wish you may be. If I were thirty years younger I wouldtry for her myself; but we all know that she has very little morereligious experience than a white rosebud. I'm not strict myself, Idon't mind a little looseness on the creed, but the trouble is thatevery old woman in the parish knows all about the family. Her father, William Dudley, a great friend of mine as you know, was a man who likedto defy opinion and never hid his contempt for ours. He paid for a pewat St. John's because, he said, society needs still that sort of police. But he has told me a dozen times that he could get more police for hismoney by giving it to the Roman Catholics. He never entered his pew. Hisbrother-in-law Murray is just as bad, never goes near the church, and isalways poking fun at us who do. The professor is a full-fledged GermanDarwinist, and believes in nothing that I know of, unless it is himself. Esther took to society, and I'm told by my young people that she was oneof the best waltzers in town until she gave it up for painting anddinners. Her set never bothered their heads about the church. Of thewhole family, Mrs. Murray is the only one who has any weight in theparish, and she has a good deal, but if I know her, she won't approvethe match any more than the rest, and you must expect to get thereputation of being unorthodox. Only yesterday old Tarbox told me hethought you were rather weak on the Pentateuch, and the best I could saywas that now-a-days we must choose between weak doctrines and weakbrains, and of the two, I preferred to let up on the Pentateuch. "

All this was the more annoying to Mr. Hazard because his orthodoxy washis strong point. Like most vigorous-minded men, seeing that there wasno stopping-place between dogma and negation, he preferred to acceptdogma. Of all weaknesses he most disliked timid and half-hearted faith. He would rather have jumped at once to Strong's pure denial, than yieldan inch to the argument that a mystery was to be paltered with becauseit could not be explained. The idea that these gossiping parishioners ofhis should undertake to question his orthodoxy, tried his temper. Heknew that they disliked his intimacy with artists and scientific people, but he was not afraid of his parish, and meant that his parish should bea little afraid of him. He preferred to give them some cause offault-finding in order to keep them awake. His greatest annoyance camefrom another side. If such gossip should reach Esther's ears, it wouldgo far towards driving her beyond his control, and he knew that evenwithout this additional alarm, it was with the greatest difficulty hecould quiet and restrain her. The threatened disaster was terribleenough when looked at as a mere question of love, but it went muchdeeper. He was ready to override criticism and trample on remonstranceif he could but succeed in drawing her into the fold, because hislifelong faith, that all human energies belonged to the church, was ontrial, and, if it broke down in a test so supreme as that of marriage, the blow would go far to prostrate him forever. What was his religiousenergy worth if it did not carry him successfully through such stress, when the strongest passion in life was working on its side?

At the hour when Strong was making his disastrous attempt to relieveEsther of her scruples, Mr. Hazard was listening to these exasperatingcriticisms from his parish. It was his habit to come every day at noonto pass an hour with Esther, and as he entered the house to-day he metStrong leaving it, and asked him to spare the time for a talk the sameevening. He wanted Strong's advice and help. 

A brace of lovers in lower spirits than Hazard and Esther could not havebeen easily found in the city of New York or its vicinity this day, andthe worst part of their depression was that each was determined to hideit from the other. Esther could not tell him much more than he alreadyknew, and would not throw away her charm over him by adding to hisanxieties, while he knew that any thing he could tell her would add toher doubts and perhaps drive her to some sudden and violent step. Luckily they were too much attached to each other to feel the fullawkwardness of their attitude. 

"It is outrageously pleasant to be with you, " he said. "One's consciencerevolts against such enjoyment. I wonder whether I should ever getenough. "

"I shall never give you a chance, " said she. "I shall be strict with youand send you off to your work before you can get tired of me. "

"You make me shockingly weary of my work, " he answered. "At times I wishI could stop making a labor of religion, and enjoy it a little. Howpleasant it would be to go off to Japan together and fill oursketch-books with drawings. "

This suggestion came on Esther so suddenly that she forgot herself andgave a little cry of delight. "Oh, are you in earnest?" she said. "Itseems to me that I could crawl and swim there if you would go with me. "

Then she saw her mistake. Her outburst of pleasure gave him pain. He wasdispleased with himself for speaking so thoughtlessly, for this idea ofescape made both of them conscious of the chasm on whose edge theystood. 

"No, I wish I could be in earnest, " he answered, "but I have just begunwork, and there is no vacation for me. You must keep up my courage. Without your help I shall break down. "

If he had thought out in advance some device for distressing her, hecould not have succeeded better. She had just time to realize the fullstrength of her love for him, when he thrust the church between them, and bade her love him for its sake. The delight of wandering through theworld by his side flashed on her mind only to show a whole Fifth Avenuecongregation as her rival. The conviction that the church was hateful toher and that she could never trust herself to obey or love it, forceditself on her at the very moment when she felt that life was nothingwithout her lover, and that to give up all the world besides in order togo with him, would be the only happiness she cared to ask of herdestiny. The feeling was torture. So long as he remained she controlledit, but when he went away she wrung her hands in despair and askedherself again and again what she could do; whether she was not going madwith the strain of these emotions. 

Before she had fairly succeeded in calming herself, her aunt came totake her out for their daily drive. Since her father's death, this drivewith her aunt, or a walk with Catherine, had been her only escape fromthe confinement of the house, and she depended on it more than on foodand drink. They went first to some shops where Mrs. Murray had purchasesto make, and Esther sat alone in the carriage while her aunt was engagedwithin in buying whatever household articles were on her list for theday. As Esther, sitting quietly in the corner of the carriage, mechanically watched the passers-by, she saw the familiar figure of Mr. Wharton among them, and, with a sudden movement of her old vivacity, shebent forward, caught his eye, and held out her hand. He stopped beforethe carriage window, and spoke with more than common cordiality. 

"I wanted to come and see you, but I heard you received no one. "

"I will always see you, " she replied. 

Looking more than ever shy and embarrassed he said that he shouldcertainly come as soon as his work would let him, and meanwhile hewanted her to know how glad he was to be able at last to offer hiscongratulations. 

"Congratulations? On what?" said she, beginning to flush scarlet. 

Wharton stammered out: "I was this moment told by a lady of youracquaintance that your engagement to Mr. Hazard was formally announcedto-day. "

Esther grew as pale as she had been red, and answered quietly: "When myengagement to any one is announced, I promise to let you know of it, Mr. Wharton, before the world knows it. "

He apologized and passed on. Esther, shrinking back into her corner, struggled in vain to recover from this new blow. Mrs. Murray, onreturning, found her in a state of feverish excitement. 

"I am being dragged in against my will, " said she. "I am beyond mydepth. What am I to do?"

"Most women feel so at first, " replied her aunt calmly. "Many want toescape. Some are afterwards sorry they didn't. "

"Have you heard of this too, and not told me?" asked Esther. 

Mrs. Murray had thought too long over the coming trouble to hesitate nowthat the moment had come. She had watched for the crisis; her mind wasmade up to take her share of the responsibility; so she now settledherself down to the task. As the thing had to be done, she thought thatthe shortest agony was the most merciful. 

"Yes!" she answered. "Several persons have mentioned it to me, and Ihave had to profess not to know what they meant. "

"What did they say?" asked Esther breathlessly. 

"The only one who has talked openly to me about it is your friend Mrs. Dyer. The story came from her, and I believe she invented it. Of courseshe disapproves. I never knew her to approve. "

"What reason does she give?"

"She says that you are an amiable girl, but one given up to worldlypursuits and without a trace of religious principle; the last woman tomake a clergyman's wife, though you might do very well for an artist orsomebody wicked enough for you, as I gathered her idea. I am told thatshe amuses herself by adding that she never took Mr. Hazard for aclergyman, and the sooner he quits the pulpit, the better. She is neversatisfied without hitting every one she can reach. "

"What does she want?" asked Esther. 

"I suppose she wants to break off the intimacy. She thinks there is noactual engagement yet, and the surest way to prevent one is to inventone in time. "

Esther reflected a few minutes before beginning again. 

"Aunt, do you think I am fit to be his wife?"

"It all depends on you, " replied Mrs. Murray. "If you feel yourself fit, you are the best person in the world for it. You would be a brand savedfrom the burning, and it will be a great feather in Mr. Hazard's cap toconvert you into a strong church-woman. He could then afford to laugh atMrs. Dyer, and all the parish would laugh with him. "

"Aunt!" said Esther in an awe-struck tone; "I am jealous of the church. I never shall like it. "

"Then, Esther, you are doing very wrong to let Mr. Hazard think you canmarry him. You will ruin him, and yourself too. "

"He has seen how I have struggled, " answered Esther with a sort of sob. "I never knew how gentle and patient a man could be until I saw how hehelped me. He began by taking all the risk. I told him faithfully that Iwas not fit for him, and he said that he only asked me to love him. Idid love him. I love him so much that if he were a beggar in the streethere and wanted me, I would get down and pick up rags with him. "

She moaned out this last sentence so piteously that Mrs. Murray's heartbled. "Poor child!" she thought. "It is like crushing a sparrow with astone. I must do it quickly. "

"Tell him all about it, Esther! It is his affair more than yours. Ifhis love is great enough to take you as you are, do your best, and neverlet him repent it; but you must make him choose between you and hisprofession. "

"I can't do that!" said Esther quickly. "I would rather go on and leaveit all to chance. "

"If you do, " replied Mrs. Murray, "You will only put yourself into hishands. Sooner or later Mr. Hazard must find out that you don't belong tohim. Then it will be his duty to make you choose between your will andhis. You had better not let yourself be put in such a position. A womancan afford to break an engagement, but she can't afford to be thrownover by a man, not even if he is a clergyman, and that is what Mr. Hazard will have to do to you if you let him go on. "

"Oh, I know him better!" broke out Esther. She resented bitterly thiscruel charge against her lover, but nevertheless it cut into herquivering nerves until her love seemed to wither under it. The idea thathe could ever want to get rid of her was the last drop in her cup ofbitterness. Mrs. Murray knew how to crush her sparrow. She needed barelyfive minutes to do it. From the moment that Esther's feminine pride wasinvolved, the sparrow was dead. 

Certainly Hazard had as yet no thought of giving up his prize, but hehad reached the first stage of wondering what he should do with it. Naturally sanguine and perhaps a little spoiled by flattery and success, he had taken for granted that Esther would at once absorb her existencein his. He hoped that she would become, like most converts, more zealousthan himself. After a week of trial, finding her not only unaffected byhis influence but actually slipping more and more from his control, hebegan to feel an alarm which grew more acute every hour, and brought himfor the first time face to face with the possibility of failure. Whatcould he do to overcome this fatal coldness. 

With very uneasy feelings he admitted that a step backwards must betaken, and it was for this purpose that he wanted to consult withStrong. Never was the Church blessed with a stranger ally than thisfreest of free thinkers, who looked at churches very much as he wouldhave looked at a layer of extinct oysters in a buried mud-bank. Strong'snotion was that since the Church continued to exist, it probably servedsome necessary purpose in human economy, though he could himself no moreunderstand the good of it than he could comprehend the use of humanexistence in any shape. Since men and women were here, idiotic andpurposeless as they might be, they had what they chose to call a rightto amuse themselves in their own way, and if this way made some happywithout hurting others, Strong was ready enough to help. He was aswilling to help Hazard as to help Esther, provided the happiness ofeither seemed to be within reach; and as for forms of faith it seemed tohim as easy to believe one thing as another. If Esther believed anything at all, he could see no reason why she might not believe whateverHazard wanted. 

With all the good-will in the world he came from his club after dinnerto Hazard's house. As the way was short he did not even grumble, knowingthat he could smoke his cigar as well at one place as at the other. Hefound Hazard in his library, walking up and down, with morediscouragement on his face than Strong had ever seen there before. Theold confusion of the room had not quite disappeared; the books were notyet all arranged on their shelves; pictures still leaned against thewall; dust had accumulated on them, and even on the large working tablewhere half-written sermons lay scattered among a mass of notes, circulars, invitations and unanswered letters. It was clear that Mr. Hazard was not an orderly person and needed nothing so much as a wife. Esther would have been little flattered at the remark, now rather commonamong his older friends, that almost any wife would be better for himthan none. 

With an echo of his old boyish cordiality he welcomed Strong, gave himthe best easy-chair by the fire, and told him to smoke as much as heliked. 

"Perhaps a cigar will give you wisdom, " he added. "You will need it, forI want to consult you about Esther. "

"Don't!" said Strong laconically. 

"Hush!" replied Hazard. "You put me out. I don't consult you because Ilike it, but because I must. The matter is becoming serious, and I musteither consult you or Mrs. Murray. I prefer to begin with you. It's ahabit I have. "

"At your own risk, then!"

"I suppose I shall have to take whatever risk there is in it, " answeredHazard. "I must do something, for if my amiable parishioner, Mrs. Dyer, gets at Esther in her present state of mind, the poor child will workherself into a brain fever. But first tell me one thing! Were you everin love with Esther yourself!"

"Never!" replied Strong, peacefully. "Esther always told me that I hadnothing but chalk and plate-glass in my mind, and could never love or beloved. We have discussed it a good deal. She says I am an old glove thatfits well enough but will not cling. Of course it was her business tomake me cling and I told her so. No! I never was in love with her, but Ihave been nearer it these last ten days than ever before. She will comeout of her trouble either made or marred, and a year hence I will tellyou which. "

"Take care, " said Hazard. "I have learned to conquer all my passionsexcept jealousy, and that I have never yet tried. "

"If she marries you, " replied Strong, "that will settle it. "

"_If_ she marries me!" broke out Hazard, paying no attention to Strong'squiet assumption that for Esther to be thus married was to be marred. "Do you mean that there is any doubt about it?"

"I supposed that was what you wanted to talk about, " answered Strongwith some surprise. "Is any thing else the matter?"

"You always put facts in a horribly materialistic way, " respondedHazard. "I wanted to consult you about making things easier for her, notabout broken engagements. "

"Bless your idealistic soul!" said Strong. "I have already tried to helpher in that way, and made a shocking piece of work. Has not Esther toldyou?" and he went on to give his friend an account of the morning'sconversation in which his attempt to preach the orthodox faith hadsuffered disastrous defeat. Hazard listened closely, and at the end satfor some time silent in deep thought. Then he said:

"Esther told me something of this, though I did not get the idea it wasso serious. I am glad to know the whole; but you should not have triedto discipline her. Leave the thunders of the church to me. "

"What could I do?" asked Strong. "She jammed me close up to the wall. Idid not know where to turn. You would have been still less pleased if Ihad done what she wanted, and given her the whole Agnostic creed. "

"I am not quite so sure about that, " rejoined Hazard thoughtfully. "I amnever afraid of pure atheism; it is the flabby kind of sentimental deismthat annoys me, because it is as slippery as air. If you will tell herhonestly what your skepticism means, I will risk the consequences. "

"Just as you like!" said Strong; "if she attacks me again, I will giveher the strongest kind of a dose of what you are pleased to call pureatheism. Not that I mind what it is called. She shall have it crude. Only remember that I prefer to tackle her on the other side. "

"Do as you please!" said Hazard. "Now let us come to business. AllEsther wants is time. I am as certain as I can be of any thing in thisuncertain world, that a few weeks, or at the outside a few months, willquiet all her fears. What I want is to stop this immediate strain whichis enough to distract any woman. "

"Stop the strain of course!" said Strong. "I want to stop it almost asmuch as you do, but it looked to me this morning as though what you callstrain were a steady drift which pays no sort of heed to our trying tostop it. "

"I feel sure it is only nervousness, " said Hazard earnestly. "Give hertime, quiet and rest! She will come out right. "

"Then what is it that I can do?"

"Help me to get her out of New York. "

"I will ask my aunt to help you, " replied Strong; "but how are we to doit? The earthly paradise is not to be found in this neighborhood in themiddle of February. "

"Never mind! If you and she will back me, we can do it, and it must bedone instantly to be of use. There is no end of parish gossip which mustnot come to Esther's ears, or it will drive her wild. Take her toFlorida, California, or even to Europe if you can! Give me time tosmooth things down! If she stays here we shall all be the worse for it. "

As usual, Hazard had his way. George consented to do all he asked andeven to take Esther away himself if it were necessary. The next morninghe appeared soon after breakfast at his aunt's to report Hazard'swishes and to devise the means of satisfying them. Much to his relief, and rather to his astonishment, he found Mrs. Murray disposed to lookwith favor on the idea. She listened quietly to his story, and after alittle reflection, asked:

"Where do you think we had best go?"

"Do you mean to go too?" asked Strong in surprise. "Why should you tearyourself up by the roots to please Hazard?"

"Those two girls can't go alone, " said Mrs. Murray; "and as for me, Idon't go to please Mr. Hazard. I don't think he is going to be pleased. "

"Now what mischief are you brewing, Aunt Sarah? I am Hazard's friend, and bound to see him through. Don't make me a party to any schemeagainst him!"

"You are not very bright, George, and just now you are ratherridiculous, because you do not in the least know what you are about. "

"Go on!" said Strong with irrepressible good nature. "Play out all yourtrumps and let my suit in!"

"Could you be ready to start for Niagara by to-morrow morning?" askedhis aunt. 

"To-morrow is Saturday. Yes! I could manage it. "

"Could you get some pleasant man to go with you?"

"Not much chance!" he replied. "I might ask Wharton, but he is verybusy. "

"Try for him! I will send you a note to your club early this evening tosay whether I shall want you or not. If I make you go, I shall go too, and take Esther and Catherine. "

"I will do any thing you want, " said Strong, "on condition that you tellme what you are about. "

Mrs. Murray looked at her nephew with a pitying air, and said:

"Any one with common sense might see that Esther's engagement nevercould come to any thing. "

"But you are trying to hold her to it. "

"I am trying to do no such thing. I expect Esther to dismiss him; thenshe will need some change of scene, and I mean to take her away. "

"To-day?" asked Strong in alarm. 

"To-day or to-morrow! Sooner or later! We have got to be ready for itat any moment. Now do you understand?"

"I think I am beginning to catch on, " replied Strong with a grave face. "I wish I were out of the scrape. "

"I told you never to get into it, " rejoined his aunt. 

"Poor Hazard!" muttered George, wondering whether he could do anythingto ward off this last blow from his friend. 

Even as he spoke, the crisis was at hand. Mrs. Murray's calculationswere exact. While Hazard had been arranging with Strong the plan forgetting Esther away from New York, letting the engagement remainprivate, Esther, in a state of feverish restlessness was wearyingCatherine with endless discussion of her trouble. Even Catherine feltthat, one way or the other, it was time for this thing to stop. Estherhad passed the stage of self-submission, and was in a mutinous mood. Shehad given up the effort to reconcile herself with her situation, and yetcould talk of nothing but Hazard, until Catherine's good-nature wassorely tried. 

"I never was such a bore till now, " said Esther at length, as though shecould not at all understand it. "I could sometimes be quite pleasant. Iused to go about the house singing and laughing. Am I going mad?"

"Suppose we go mad together?" said Catherine. "I will if you will. "

"Suppose we elope together!" said Esther. "Will you run off with me?"

"Any where but to Colorado, " replied Catherine, "I have seen all I wantof Colorado. "

"We will take our wedding journey together and leave our husbandsbehind. Let them catch us if they can!" continued Esther, talkingrapidly and feverishly. 

"It would be rather fun to see Mr. Hazard driving Mr. Van Dam's fasttrotters after us, " remarked Catherine. 

"When shall we go? Can we start now?"

"Don't you think we had better go to bed just now, and elope in themorning?" grumbled Catherine. "They can see us better by daylight. "

"I tell you, Catherine, that I am in awful earnest. I mean to go awaysomewhere, and if you won't go with me, I shall go alone. "

"Suppose they catch us?" said Catherine. 

"I don't care! I am hopelessly wicked! I can't be respectable andbelieve the thirty-nine articles. I can't go to church every Sunday orhold my tongue or pretend to be pious. "

"Then why don't you tell him so, and let him run away?" asked Catherine. 

"Because then he would think it his duty to run, " said Esther, "and Idon't want to be run away from. Would you like to have the world thinkyou were jilted?"

"How you do torture your poor brain!" said Catherine pityingly. "There!Go to bed now! It is long past midnight. To-morrow I will run you off, and you never shall go to church any more. "

Esther was really in a way to alarm her friends. She went to bed asCatherine advised, but her sleep was feverish, as though she had dietedherself on opium. She acted over and over again the scene that laybefore her, until her brain felt physically weary, as though it had runall night round and round its narrow chamber. Her head was so tired inthe morning that it was a relief to get up and face real life. Shedressed herself with uncommon care. She meant to keep her crown eventhough she threw away her kingdom, and though she should lose a husband, she intended to hold fast her lover. Women have the right to thiscoquetry with fate. Iphigenia herself, when the priests, who muffled hervoice, stretched her on the altar and struck the knife in her throat, tried to charm them with her sad eyes while her saffron blood wasflowing, and they saw that she would have charmed them with her voiceeven when hope had vanished. 

The unfortunate Hazard was not precisely an Agamemnon, and would haveliked nothing better than to stop the sacrifice which seemed to him muchtoo closely like a triumph over himself. His own throat was the onewhich felt itself in closest danger of the knife. At noon, as usual, hecame in, trying to conceal his anxiety under an appearance ofconfidence, but Esther's first words routed all his forces and drove himback to his last defense. 

"I should not have let you come to-day. I ought to have written to bidyou good-by, but it was too hard not to see you once more. I am goingaway. "

"I am going with you, " said Hazard quietly. 

"No, you are not!" replied Esther. "You are to stay here and attend toyour duties. Forget me as soon as you can. "

Hazard took this address very good-naturedly, and neither showed norfelt surprise. "You have been tormented by this idea, " he said, "and Iam glad now to meet it face to face. For us to part is impossible. Youand I are one. You cannot get yourself apart from me, though you maymake us both unhappy; and even if you go away forever you will stillbelong to me. I could not release you if I would. "

"I don't want to be released, " said Esther. "If it were only for that, Iwould stay with you as long as you would let me. I would do whatever youtold me, and never ask a question. But I will not be your evil genius. Iwill be your good genius or nothing. "

"Be my good genius then! What stands in your way?"

"I have tried and failed. Already there is not a woman in your parishwho is not saying that I shall ruin you and your career. I would ratherdie than run the risk of your thinking I had done you harm. "

"If I, seeing all this, am willing to take the risk, why should you allyyourself against me with all the petty gossip of a parish?" askedHazard. "Such talk will stop the moment you say the word. Let me go outnow and announce our engagement! If I did not sometimes shock my parish, I could never manage them. "

"But I would rather not be made useful in that way, " said Esther with amomentary gleam of humor in her eyes. "No woman wants to be shocking. Now I have a favor to ask of you. It is the last, and I want you topromise to grant it. "

"Not if it is to give you up. "

"I want you to make it easy for me. I am trying to do right. I am soweak and unhappy after all that has happened that if you are cruel tome, I shall want to die. Be generous! You know I am right. Let me goquietly, and do not torture me!"

She sat down as they were talking. He, sinking into a chair by her side, took both her hands in his, and she did not try to free them. When shemade her appeal, he answered as quietly and stubbornly as before:"Never! You are my wife, and my wife you will always be in my eyes. Ishall not give you up. I shall not make it easy for you to give me up. Ishall make it as hard as I can. I shall prevent it. But I will doanything you like to make our engagement easy, and I came to-day withsomething to propose. "

No doubt, had Hazard taken her at her word and coolly walked away, Esther would have been very unpleasantly surprised. She did not expecthim to obey her first orders, nor did she want to hurry the moment ofseparation, or to part from him with a feeling of bitterness. Hispresence always soothed and satisfied her, and she had never been calmerthan now, when, with her hands in his, she waited for his newsuggestion. 

"I want you to do me a favor not nearly so great as the one you ask ofme, " said he. "Give me time! Go abroad, if you think best, but let ourengagement stand! Let me come out and join you in the summer. I am readyto see you go where you like, and stay as long as you please, if youtake me with you. "

Esther reflected for a moment how she should answer. She had thought ofthis plan and rejected it long before, because it seemed to her tocombine all possible objections, and to get rid of none. She knew thatneither six months nor six years would make her a fit wife for Hazard, and that it would be dishonest to lure him on by any hope that she couldchange her nature; but it was not easy to put this in delicate words. Atlength she answered simply. 

"I am almost the last person in the world whom you ought to marry. Timewill only make me more unfit. "

"Should you think so, " he asked quickly, "if I were a lawyer, or a stockbroker?"

She colored and withdrew her hands. "No!" she said. "If you were a stockbroker I suppose I should be quite satisfied. Now I am low enough, am Inot? Don't make me feel more degraded than I am. Let me go off alone andforget me!"

But Hazard continued to press his point with infinite patience andgentle obstinacy, until her powers of resistance were almost worn out. Again and again the tears came into her eyes, and she would have toldhim gladly to take her and do what he liked with her, if she had notsteeled herself with the fixed thought that in this case the wholestruggle must begin again, and he would know no better what to do withher than before. He would talk only of their love, attacking her whereshe could not defend herself, and took almost a pleasure inacknowledging that she was at his mercy. 

"Oh, if you want only my love, " she said at last with a gesture ofdespair, "I have lost all my pride. I would like nothing better than tolie down and die in your arms. I will promise to be faithful to you allmy life; to go into a convent if you want it; to drown myself, or do anything but lose your love. "

"It is not so very much I ask, " he urged. "You fear hurting me bymarrying me. Do you ever reflect how much you will hurt me by refusing?Do you know how solitary I am? Not a human being counts for any thing inmy life. When I go to my rooms, I am terrified to think how lonely theywill seem unless I can keep you in my mind. You are the only woman Iever loved. You are my companion, my ideal, my life. We two souls havewandered about the universe from all eternity waiting to meet eachother, and now after we have met and become one, you try to part us. "

As he went on with this appeal, he wrought himself into stronger andstronger expression of feeling, while Esther fell back in her chair andcovered her face with her hands. 

"If I am willing to risk every thing for you, why should you refuse togrant me so small a favor as I ask? Look, Esther! What more can I do?Will you not make a little sacrifice of pride for me? Will you ever findanother man to love you as I do?"

"How merciless you are!" sobbed Esther. 

"I ask only for time, " he hurried on. "To part from you now, in thisroom, at this moment, forever, is awful! You may go if you will, but Ishall follow you. I will never give you up. You are mine--mine--mine!"

His passionate cry of love was more than flesh and blood could bear. With an uncontrollable impulse of self-abandonment Esther held out herhand to him and he seized her in his arms, kissing her passionatelyagain and again, till she tore herself away. 

"There, go!" said she, breathlessly. "Go! You are killing me!"

Without waiting an answer, she turned and hurried away to her room, where, flinging herself down, she sobbed till her hysterical passionwore itself out. 

_Chapter IX_

At her usual hour for taking Esther to drive, Mrs. Murray appeared atthe house, where she found Catherine looking as little pleased as thoughshe were ordered to return to her native prairie. 

"We have sent him off, " said she, "and we are clean broke up. "

The tears were in her eyes as she thus announced the tragedy which hadbeen acted only an hour or two before, but her coolness more than everwon Mrs. Murray's heart. 

"Tell me all that has happened, " said she. 

"I've told you all I know, " replied Catherine. "They had it out here foran hour or more, and then Esther ran up to her room. I've been to thedoor half a dozen times, and could hear her crying and moaning inside. "

Mrs. Murray sat down with a rueful face and a weary sigh, but there wasno sign of hesitation or doubt in her manner. The time had come for herto take command, and she did it without fretfulness or unnecessarywords. 

"You are the only person I know with a head, " said she to Catherine. "You have some common sense and can help me. I want to take Esther outof this place within six hours. Can you manage to get every thingready?"

"I will run it all if you will take care of Esther, " replied Catherine. "I'm not old enough to boss her. "

"All you will have to do is to see that your trunks are packed for aweek's absence and you are both ready to start by eight o'clock, "answered Mrs. Murray. "Do you attend to that and I will look out for therest. Now wait here a few minutes while I go up and see Esther!"

Catherine wished nothing better than to start any where at the shortestnotice. She was tired of the long strain on her sympathies and feelings, and was glad to be made useful in a way that pleased her practical mind. Mrs. Murray went up to Esther's room. All was quiet inside. The stormhad spent itself. Knowing that her aunt would come, Esther had made theeffort to be herself again, and when Mrs. Murray knocked at the door, the voice that told her to come in was firm and sweet as ever. Estherwas getting ready for her drive, and though her eyes, in spite ofbathing, were red and swollen, they had no longer the anxious andtroubled look of a hunted creature which had so much alarmed Mrs. Murrayfor the last few days. Her expression was more composed than it had beenfor weeks. Her love had already become a sorrow rather than a passion, and she would not, for a world of lovers, have gone back to the distressof yesterday. 

Mrs. Murray took in the whole situation at a glance and breathed abreath of relief. At length the crisis was past and she had only to savethe girl from brooding over her pain. Without waiting for anexplanation, she plunged into the torrent of Esther's woes. 

"Mr. Murray and I are going to Niagara by the night train. I want youand Catherine to go with us. "

"You are an angel!" answered Esther. "Did Catherine tell you how Iwanted to run away! You knew it would be so? I will go any where; thefurther the better; but how can I drag you and poor Uncle John away fromtown at this season? Can't I go off alone with Catherine?"

"Nonsense!" said her aunt briefly. "I shall be glad to get away from NewYork. I am tired of it. Get your trunks packed! Put in your sketchingmaterials, and we will pick you up at eight o'clock. George shall comeon to-morrow and pass Sunday with us. "

Esther thanked her aunt with effusion. "I am going to show you how wellI can behave. Uncle John shall not know that any thing is the matterwith me unless you tell him. I won't be contemptible, even if I have gotred eyes. "

Not five minutes were needed to decide on the new departure. Esther andCatherine found relief and amusement in the bustle of preparation. IfEsther was still a little feverish and excited, she was able to throw itoff in work. She was no longer an object of pity; it was her uncle andaunt who deserved deepest compassion. What worse shock was possible foran elderly, middle-aged New York lawyer than to return to his house atsix o'clock and find that he is to have barely time for his dinner andcigar before being thrust out into the cold and hideous darkness of aFebruary night, in order to travel some four hundred miles through asnow-bound country? It is true that he had received some little warningto arrange his affairs for an absence over Saturday, but at best theblow was a severe one, and he bore it with a silent fortitude whichwrung his wife's heart. She was a masterful mistress, but she was goodto those who obeyed, and she even showed the weakness of begging him notto go, although in her soul she knew that he must. 

"After all, John, you needn't go with us. I can take the girls alone. "

"As I understand it, you have engaged my professional services, " hereplied. "On the whole I prefer prevention to cure. I would rather helpEsther to run away, than get her a divorce. "

"When I am dead, you shall stay quietly at home and be perfectly happy, "she answered, with the venerable device which wives, from earliesthistory, have used to palliate their own sins. 

Nevertheless he felt almost as miserable as his wife, when, wrapped incloaks and rugs, they left their bright dining room and shuffled downthe steps into the outside darkness to their carriage. He expressedopinions about lovers which would have put a quick end to the human racehad they been laws of nature. He wished the church would take them alland consign them to its own favorite place of punishment. He had adisagreeable trick of gibing at his wife's orthodoxy on this point, andwhen she remonstrated at his profanity, he smiled contentedly and said:"There is nothing profane about it. It is sound church doctrine, and Ienvy you for being able to believe it. You can hope to see them withyour own eyes getting their reward, confound them!"

Consoling himself with this pleasing hope, they started off, and in fiveminutes were at Esther's door. After taking the two girls into thecarriage, Mr. Murray became more affable and even gay. By the time theparty was established in their sleeping car, he had begun to enjoyhimself. He had too often made such journeys, and was too familiar withevery thing on the road to be long out of humor, and for once it wasamusing to have a pair of pretty girls to take with him. Commonly hisbest society was some member of the Albany Legislature, and his onlyconversation was about city charters and railroad legislation. Thevariety had its charm. Esther was as good as her word. She made adesperate battle to recover her gayety, and the little excitement of anight journey helped the triumph of her pride. Determined that she wouldnot be an object of pity, she made the most of all her chances, pretended to take in earnest her uncle's humorous instructions as to theart of arranging a sleeping berth, and horrified her aunt by letting himinduce Catherine and herself to eat hot doughnuts and mince pies on thetrain. It was outwardly a gay little party which rattled along the bankof the snowy river on their way northward. 

The gayety, it is true, was forced. For the first ten minutes Estherfelt excited by the sense of flight and the rapid motion which wascarrying her she knew not where, --away into the infinite and unknown. What lay before her, beyond the darkness of the moment, she hardlycared. Never again could she go back to the old life, but like a youngbird that has lost its mate, she must fly on through the gloom till itend. Unluckily all her thoughts brought her back to Hazard. Even thissense of resembling a bird that flies, it knows not where, recalled toher the sonnet of Petrarch which she had once translated for him, andwhich, since then, had been always on his lips, although she had neverdreamed that it could have such meaning to her. Long after she hadestablished herself in her berth, solitary and wakeful, the verses maderhythm with the beat of the car-wheels:

 "Vago augelletto che cantando vai!"

They were already far on their way, flying up the frozen stream of theHudson, before she was left alone with her thoughts in the noisy quietof the rushing train. She could not even hope to sleep. Propping herselfup against the pillows, she raised the curtain of her window and staredinto the black void outside. Nothing in nature could be more mysteriousand melancholy than this dark, polar world, beside which a winter stormon the Atlantic was at least exciting. On the ocean the forces of naturehave it their own way; nothing comes between man and the elements; butas Esther gazed out into the night, it was not the darkness, or thesense of cold, or the vagrant snow-flakes driving against the window, or the heavy clouds drifting through the sky, or even the ghastlyglimmer and reflection of the snow-fields, that, by contrast, made thegrave seem cheerful; it was rather the twinkling lights from distant andinvisible farm-houses, the vague outlines of barn-yards and fences alongdoubtful roads, the sudden flash of lamps as the train hurried throughunknown stations, or the unfamiliar places where it stopped, while thetap-tap of the train-men's hammers on the wheels beneath sounded likespirit-rappings. These signs of life behind the veil were like thesteady lights of shore to the drowning fisherman off the reef outside. Every common-place kerosene lamp whose rays struggled from distant, snow-clad farms, brought a picture of peace and hope to Esther. Not oneof these invisible roofs but might shelter some realized romance, somecontented love. In so dark and dreary a world, what a mad act it was tofly from the only happiness life offered! What a strange idea to seeksafety by refusing the only protection worth having! Love was all inall! Esther had never before felt herself so helpless as in the face ofthis outer darkness, and if her lover had now been there to claim her, she would have dropped into his arms as unresistingly as a tired child. 

As the night wore on, the darkness and desolation became intolerable, and she shut them out, only to find herself suffocated by theimprisonment of her sleeping-berth. Hour after hour dragged on; thelittle excitement of leaving Albany was long past, and the train waswandering through the dullness of Central New York, when at last a faintsuspicion of dim light appeared in the landscape, and Esther returned toher window. If any thing could be drearier than the blackness of night, it was the grayness of dawn, which had all the cold terror of death andall the grim repulsiveness of life joined in an hour of despair. Esthercould now see the outlines of farm-houses as the train glided on;snow-laden roofs and sheds; long stretches of field with fences buriedto their top rails in sweeping snow-drifts; in the houses, lights showedthat toil had begun again; smoke rose from the chimneys; figures movedin the farm-yards; a sleigh could be seen on a decided road; the worldbecame real, prosaic, practical, mechanical, not worth strugglingabout; a mere colorless, passionless, pleasureless grayness. As themystery vanished, the pain passed and the brain grew heavy. Esther'seyelids drooped, and she sank at last into a sleep so sound that therewas hardly need for Catherine to stand sentry before her berth and frownthe car into silence. The sun was high above the horizon; the sky wasbright and blue; the snowy landscape flashed with the sparkle ofdiamonds, when Esther woke, and it was with a cry of pleasure that shefelt her spirits answer the sun. 

Meanwhile her flight was no secret. As the train that carried her offdrew out of the great station into the darkness for its long journey ofthree thousand miles, two notes were delivered to gentlemen only a fewsquares away. Strong at his club received one from Mrs. Murray: "We allstart for Clifton at nine o'clock. Come to-morrow and bring a companionif you can. We need to be amused. " The Reverend Stephen Hazard receivedthe other note, which was still more brief, but long enough to strikehim with panic; for it contained two words: "Good-by! Esther. "

No sooner did Strong receive his missive than he set himself in activemotion. Wharton, who commonly dined at the club, was so near that Stronghad only to pass the note over to him. Whether Wharton was stillsuffering from the shock of his wife's appearance, or disappearance, orwhether he was on the look-out for some chance to see again his friendCatherine, or whether he found it pleasanter to take a holiday than toattack his long arrears of work, the idea of running up to Niagara forSunday happened to strike him as pleasant, and he promised to joinStrong at the Erie Station in the morning. Strong knew him too well tocount on his keeping the engagement, but could do no more, and they bothleft the club to make their preparations. Strong had another duty. Before stirring further, he must talk with Hazard. The affair wasrapidly taking a shape that might embarrass them both. 

Going directly to Hazard's house, he burst into the library, where hefound his friend trying to work in spite of the heavy load on his mind. Throwing him Mrs. Murray's note, Strong waited without a word whileHazard read it more eagerly than though it had been a summons to abishopric. The mysterious good-by, which had arrived but a few minutesbefore, had upset his nerves, and at first the note which Strong broughtreassured him, for he thought that Mrs. Murray was earning out his ownwishes and drawing Esther nearer to him. 

"Then we have succeeded!" he cried. 

"Not much!" said Strong dryly. "It is a genuine flight and escape in allthe forms. You are out-generaled and your line of attack is left all inthe air. "

"I shall follow!" said Hazard, doggedly. 

"No good! They are in earnest, " replied Strong. 

"So am I!" answered the clergyman sharply, while Strong threw himselfinto a chair, good-natured as ever, and said:

"Come along then! Will you go up with Wharton and me by the early trainto-morrow?"

"Yes!" replied Hazard quickly. Then he paused; there were limits to hispower and he began to feel them. "No!" he went on. "I can't get awayto-morrow. I must wait till Sunday night. "

"Better wait altogether, " said Strong. "You take the chances againstyou. "

"I told her I should follow her, and I shall, " repeated Hazard stiffly. He felt hurt, as though Esther had rebelled against his authority, andhe was not well pleased that Strong should volunteer advice. 

"Give me my orders then!" said Strong. "Can I do any thing for you?"

"I shall be there on Monday afternoon. Telegraph me if they shoulddecide to leave the place earlier. Try and keep them quiet till I getthere!"

"Shall I tell them you are coming?"

"Not for your life!" answered Hazard impatiently. "Do all you can tosoothe and quiet her. Hint that in my place you would come. Try to makeher hope it, but not fear it. "

"I will do all that to the letter, " said Strong. "I feel partlyresponsible for getting you and Esther into this scrape, and am ready togo a long way to pull you through; but this done I stop. If Esther is inearnest, I must stand by her. Is that square?"

Hazard frowned severely and hesitated. "The real struggle is justcoming, " said he. "If you keep out of the way, I shall win. So far Ihave never failed with her. My influence over her to-day is greater thanever, or she would not try to run away from it. If you interfere I shallthink it unkind and unfriendly. "

To this Strong answered pleasantly enough, but as though his mind werequite made up: "I don't mean to interfere if I can help it, but I can'tpersecute Esther, if it is going to make her unhappy. As it is, I amlikely to catch a scoring from my aunt for bringing you down on them, and undoing her work. I wish I were clear of the whole matter and Estherwere a pillar of the church. "

With this declaration of contingent neutrality, Strong went his way, andas he walked musingly back to his rooms, he muttered to himself that hehad done quite as much for Hazard as the case would warrant: "What atrump the girl is, and what a good fight she is making! I believe I amgetting to be in love with her myself, and if he gives it up--hum--yes, if he gives it up, --then of course Esther will go abroad and forget it. "

Hazard's solitary thoughts were not quite so pointless. The danger ofdisappointment and defeat roused in him the instinct of martyrdom. Hewas sure that all mankind would suffer if he failed to get theparticular wife he wanted. "It is not a selfish struggle, " he thought. "It is a human soul I am trying to save, and I will do it in the teethof all the powers of darkness. If I can but set right thissystematically misguided conscience, the task is done. It is the affairof a moment when once the light comes;--A flash! A miracle! If I cannotwield this fire from Heaven, I am unfit to touch it. Let it burn me up!"

Early the next morning, not a little to their own surprise, Strong andWharton found themselves dashing over the Erie Road towards Buffalo. They had a long day before them and luckily Wharton was in his bestspirits. As for Strong he was always in good spirits. Within the memoryof man, well or ill, on sea or shore, in peril or safety, Strong hadnever been seen unhappy or depressed. He had the faculty of interestinghimself without an effort in the doings of his neighbors, and Whartonalways had on hand some scheme which was to make an epoch in thehistory of art. Just now it was a question of a new academy of musicwhich was to be the completest product of architecture, and to combineall the senses in delight. The Grand Opera at Paris was to be tamebeside it. Here he was to be tied down by no such restraints as thechurch imposed on him; he was to have beauty for its own sake and tocreate the thought of a coming world. His decorations should make arevolution in the universe. Strong entered enthusiastically into hisplans, but both agreed that preliminary studies were necessary both forarchitects and artists. The old world must be ransacked to the depths ofJapan and Persia. Before their dinner-hour was reached, they had laidout a scheme of travel and study which would fill a life-time, while theHome of Music in New York was still untouched. After dinner and a cigar, they fought a prodigious battle over the influence of the Aryan races onthe philosophy of art, and then, dusk coming on, they went to sleep, andfinished an agreeable journey at about midnight. 

When at last they drove up to the hotel door in the frosty night, andstamped their feet, chilled by the sleigh-ride from the station, thecataract's near roar and dim outline under the stars did not preventthem from warmly greeting Mr. Murray who sallied out to welcome them andto announce that their supper was waiting. The three women had longsince gone to bed, but Mr. Murray staid up to have a chat with the boys. He was in high spirits. He owned that he had enjoyed his trip and was inno hurry to go home. While his nephew and Wharton attacked their supper, he sipped his Scotch whisky, and with the aid of a cigar, enlivened thefeast. 

"We got over here before three o'clock, " said he, "and of course I tookthem out to drive at once. Esther sat in front with me and we let thehorses go. Your aunt thinks I am unsafe with horses and I took somepains to prove that she was right. The girls liked it. They wouldn'thave minded being tipped into a snow-bank, but I thought it would berough on your aunt, so I brought them home safe, gave them a first-ratedinner and sent them off to bed hours ago, sleepy as gods. To-morrow youmust take them in hand. I have made to-day what the newspapers call mymost brilliant forensic effort, and I'll not risk my reputation again. "

"Keep out of our way then!" said Strong. "Wharton and I mean to spillthose two girls over the cliff unless Canadian horses know geology. "

Esther slept soundly that night while the roar of the waters lulled herslumbers. The sun woke her the next morning to a sense of new life. Herroom looked down on the cataract, and she had already taken a fancy tothis tremendous, rushing, roaring companion, which thundered and smokedunder her window, as though she had tamed a tornado to play in hercourt-yard. To brush her hair while such a confidant looked on and askedquestions, was more than Pallas Athene herself could do, though shelooked out forever from the windows of her Acropolis over the BlueÆgean. The sea is capricious, fickle, angry, fawning, violent, savageand wanton; it caresses and raves in a breath, and has its moods ofsilence, but Esther's huge playmate rambled on with its story, in thesame steady voice, never shrill or angry, never silent or degraded by asign of human failings, and yet so frank and sympathetic that she had nochoice but to like it. "Even if it had nothing to tell me, its mannersare divine, " said Esther to herself as she leaned against the windowsash and looked out. "And its dress!" she ran on. "What a complexion, tostand dazzling white and diamonds in the full sunlight!" Yet it was notthe manners or the dress of her new friend that most won Esther's heart. Her excitement and the strain of the last month had left her subject toher nerves and imagination. She was startled by a snow-flake, wasreckless and timid by turns, and her fancy ran riot in dreams of loveand pain. She fell in love with the cataract and turned to it as aconfidant, not because of its beauty or power, but because it seemed totell her a story which she longed to understand. "I think I dounderstand it, " she said to herself as she looked out. "If he could onlyhear it as I do, " and of course "he" was Mr. Hazard; "how he would feelit!" She felt tears roll down her face as she listened to the voice ofthe waters and knew that they were telling her a different secret fromany that Hazard could ever hear. "He will think it is the churchtalking!" Sad as she was, she smiled as she thought that it was Sundaymorning, and a ludicrous contrast flashed on her mind between thedecorations of St. John's, with its parterre of nineteenth centurybonnets, and the huge church which was thundering its gospel under hereyes. 

To have Niagara for a rival is no joke. Hazard spoke with no suchauthority; and Esther's next idea was one of wonder how, after listeninghere, any preacher could have the confidence to preach again. "What dothey know about it?" she asked herself. "Which of them can tell a storylike this, or a millionth part of it?" To dilute it in words andtranslate bits of it for school-girls, or to patronize it by defense orpraise, was somewhat as though Esther herself should paint a row of hersaints on the cliff under Table Rock. Even to fret about her own loveaffairs in such company was an impertinence. When eternity, infinity andomnipotence seem to be laughing and dancing in one's face, it is well totreat such visitors civilly, for they come rarely in such a humor. 

So much did these thoughts interest and amuse her that she took infinitepains with her toilet in order to honor her colossal host whose owntoilet was sparkling with all the jewels of nature, like an Indianprince whose robes are crusted with diamonds and pearls. When she camedown to the breakfast-room, Strong, who was alone there, looked up witha start. 

"Why, Esther!" he broke out, "take care, or one of these days you willbe handsome!"

Catherine too was pretty as a fawn, and was so honestly pleased to meetWharton again that he expanded into geniality. As for broken hearts, noself-respecting young woman shows such an ornament at any well regulatedbreakfast-table; they are kept in dark drawers and closets like otherbroken furniture. Esther had made the deadliest resolution to let notrace of her unhappiness appear before her uncle, and Mr. Murray, whosaw no deeper than other men into the heart-problem, was delighted withthe gayety of the table, and proud of his own success as a physician forheart complaints. Mrs. Murray, who knew more about her own sex, kept hereye on the two girls with more anxiety than she cared to confess. If anynew disaster should happen, the prospect would be desperate, and it wasuseless to deny that she had taken risks heavy enough to stagger aprofessional gambler. The breakfast table looked gay and happy enough, and so did the rapids which sparkled and laughed in the distance. 

After breakfast the two young women, with much preparation of boots, veils and wraps, went off with Strong and Wharton for a stroll down tothe banks of the river. The two older members of the party remainedquietly in their parlor, thinking that the young people would get onbetter by themselves. As the four wandered down the road, Mr. Murraywatched them, and noticed the natural way in which Esther joined Strong, while Catherine fell to Wharton. Standing with his hands in histrousers' pockets and his nose close to the window-pane, Mr. Murraylooked after them as they disappeared down the bank, and then, withoutturning round, he made a remark as husbands do, addressed to theuniverse and intended for his wife. 

"I suppose that is what you are driving at. "

"What?" asked Mrs. Murray. 

"I don't mind George and Esther, but I grudge Catherine to that manWharton. He may be a good artist, but I think his merits as a husbandbeneath criticism. I believe every woman would connive at a love affairthough the man had half a dozen living wives, and had been hung two orthree times for murder. "

"I wish Esther were as safe as I think Catherine, " said Mrs. Murray. "Itwould surprise me very much if Catherine took Mr. Wharton now, but ifMr. Hazard were to walk round the corner, I should expect to see Estherrun straight into his arms. "

"Hazard!" exclaimed Mr. Murray. "I thought he was out of the running andyou meant Esther for George. "

"I am not a match-maker, and I've no idea that Esther will ever marryGeorge, " replied Mrs. Murray with the patience which wives sometimesshow to husbands whom they think obtuse. 

"Then what is it you want?" asked Mr. Murray, with some signs ofrebellion, but still talking to the window-pane, with his hands in hispockets. "You encourage a set of clever men to hang round two prettygirls, and you profess at the same time not to want anything to come ofit. That kind of conduct strikes an ordinary mind as inconsistent. "

"I want to prevent one unhappy marriage, not to make two, " replied hiswife. "Girls must have an education, and the only way they can get agood one is from clever men. As for falling in love, they will always dothat whether the men are clever or not. They must take the risk. "

"And what do you mean to do with them when they _are_ educated?"inquired he. 

"I mean them to marry dull, steady men in Wall Street, without anymanners, and with their hands in their pockets, " answered Mrs. Murray, her severity for once mingled with a touch of sweetness. 

"Thank you, " replied her husband, at last turning round. "Then that isto be the fruit of all this to-do?"

"I am sure it is quite fruit enough, " rejoined she. "The business ofeducating their husbands will take all the rest of their lives. "

Mr. Murray reflected a few minutes, standing with his back to the fireand gazing at his wife. Then he said: "Sarah, you are a clever woman. Ifyou would come into my office and work steadily, you could double myincome at the bar; but you need practice; your points are too fine; yourun too many risks, and no male judge would ever support your managementof a case. As practice I grant you it is bold and has much to recommendit, but in the law we cannot look so far ahead. Now, why won't you letEsther marry George?"

"I shall practice only before women judges, " replied Mrs. Murray, "and Iwill undertake to say that I never should find one so stupid as not tosee that George is not at all the sort of man whom a girl with Esther'snotions would marry. If I tried to make her do it, I should be aswrong-headed as some men I know. "

"I suppose you don't mean to put yourself in George's way, if he asksher, " inquired Mr. Murray rather anxiously. 

"My dear husband, there is no use in thinking about George one way orthe other. Do put him out of your head! You fancy because Esther seemsbright this morning, that she might marry George to-morrow. Now I cansee a great deal more of Esther's mind than you, and I tell you that itis all we can do to prevent her from recalling Mr. Hazard, and that ifwe do prevent it, we shall have to take her abroad for at least twoyears before she gets over the strain. "

At this emphatic announcement that his life was to be for two years asacrifice to Esther's love-affairs, Mr. Murray retired again to hiswindow and meditated in a more subdued spirit. He knew that protestwould avail nothing. 

Meanwhile the two girls were already down on the edge of the icy river, talking at first of the scene which lay before their eyes. 

"Think what the Greeks would have done with it!" said Wharton. "Theywould have set Zeus in a throne on Table Rock, firing away hislightnings at Prometheus under the fall. "

"Just for a change I rather like our way of sticking advertisementsthere, " said Catherine. "It makes one feel at home. "

"A woman feels most the kind of human life in it, " said Esther. 

"A big, rollicking, Newfoundland dog sort of humanity, " said Strong. 

"You are all wrong, " said Catherine. "The fall is a woman, and she is asself-conscious this morning as if she were at church. Look at thecoquetry of the pretty curve where the water falls over, and the lace onthe skirt where it breaks into foam! Only a woman could do that and lookso pretty when she might just as easily be hideous. "

"It is not a woman! It is a man!" broke in Esther vehemently. "No womanever had a voice like that!" She felt hurt that her cataract should betreated as a self-conscious woman. 

"Now, Mr. Wharton!" cried Catherine, appealing to the artist: "Now, yousee I'm right, and self-consciousness is sometimes a beauty. "

Wharton answered this original observation of nature by a lecture whichmay be read to more advantage in his printed works. It ended byCatherine requiring him to draw for her the design of a dress whichshould have the soul of Niagara in its folds, and while he was engagedin this labor, which absorbed Catherine's thoughts and gave her extremeamusement, Esther strolled on with Strong, and for nearly an hour walkedup and down the road, or leaned against the rock in sheltered placeswhere the sun was warm. At first they went on talking of the scenery, then Esther wanted to know about the geology, and quickly broke in onStrong's remarks upon this subject by questions which led further andfurther away from it. The river boiled at their feet; the sun meltedthe enormous icicles which hung from the precipice behind them; a massof frozen spray was banked up against the American fall opposite them, making it look like an iceberg, and snow covered every thing except theperpendicular river banks and the dark water. The rainbow hung over thecataract, and the mist rose from the furious waters into the peace ofthe quiet air. 

"You know what has happened?" she asked. 

Strong nodded assent. He was afraid to tell her how much he knew. 

"Do you think I have done wrong?"

"How can I tell without knowing all your reasons?" he asked. "It looksto me as though you were uncertain of yourself and cared less for himthan he for you. If I were in his place I should follow you close up, and refuse to leave you. "

Esther gave a little gasp: "You don't think he will do that? if he does, I shall run away again. "

"Why run away? if you really want to get rid of him, why not make himrun away?"

"Because I don't want to make him run away from me, and because I don'tknow how. If I could only get him away from his church! All I know aboutit is that I can't be a clergyman's wife, but the moment that I try toexplain why, he proves to me that my reasons are good for nothing. "

"Are you sure he's not right?" asked Strong. 

"Perfectly sure!" replied Esther earnestly. "I can't reason it out, butI feel it. I believe you could explain it if you would, but when I askedyou, in the worst of my trouble, you refused to help me. "

"I gave you all the help I could, and I am ready to give you whateveryou want more, " replied Strong. 

"Tell me what you think about religion!"

Strong drew himself together with a perceptible effort: "I think aboutit as little as possible, " said he. 

"Do you believe in a God?"

"Not in a personal one. "

"Or in future rewards and punishments?"

"Old women's nursery tales!"

"Do you believe in nothing?"

"There is evidence amounting to strong probability, of the existence oftwo things, " said Strong, slowly, and as though in his lecture-room. 

"What are they, if you please?"

"Should you know better if I said they were mind and matter?"

"You believe in nothing else?"

"N-N-No!" hesitated Strong. 

"Isn't it horrible, your doctrine?"

"What of that, if it's true? I never said it was pleasant. "

"Do you expect to convert any one to such a religion?"

"Great Buddha, no! I don't want to convert any one. I prefer almost anykind of religion. No one ever took up this doctrine who could helphimself. "

Esther pondered deeply for a time. Strong's trick of driving her to dowhat he wanted was so old a habit that she had learned to distrust it. At last she began again from another side. 

"You really mean that this life is every thing, and the future nothing?"

"I never said so. I rather think the church is right in thinking thislife nothing and the future every thing. "

"But you deny a future life!"

Strong began to feel uncomfortable. He wanted to defend his opinions, and it became irksome to go on making out the strongest case he couldagainst himself. 

"Come!" said he: "don't go beyond what I said. I only denied the rewardsand punishments. Mind! I'll not say there is a future life, but I don'tdeny it's possibility. "

"You are willing to give us a chance?" said Esther rather sarcastically. 

"I don't know that you would call it one, " replied Strong satisfied byEsther's irony that he had now gone far enough. "If our minds could gethold of one abstract truth, they would be immortal so far as that truthis concerned. My trouble is to find out how we can get hold of the truthat all. "

"My trouble is that I don't think I understand in the least what youmean, " replied Esther. 

"I thought you knew enough theology for that, " said George. "The thingis simple enough. Hazard and I and every one else agree that thought iseternal. If you can get hold of one true thought, you are immortal asfar as that thought goes. The only difficulty is that every fellowthinks his thought the true one. Hazard wants you to believe in his, andI don't want you to believe in mine, because I've not got one which Ibelieve in myself. "

"Still I don't understand, " said Esther. "How can I make myself immortalby taking Mr. Hazard's opinions?"

"Because then the truth is a part of you! if I understand St. Paul, thisis sound church doctrine, leaving out the personal part of the Trinitywhich Hazard insists on tacking to it. Except for the rubbish, I don'tthink I am so very far away from him, " continued Strong, now assumingthat he had done what he could to set Esther straight, and going on withthe conversation as though it had no longer a personal interest. As hetalked, he poked holes in the snow with his stick, as though what hesaid was for his own satisfaction, and he were turning this old problemover again in his mind to see whether he could find any thing new at thebottom of it. "I can't see that my ideas are so brutally shocking. Wemay some day catch an abstract truth by the tail, and then we shall haveour religion and immortality. We have got far more than half way. Infinity is infinitely more intelligible to you than you are to asponge. If the soul of a sponge can grow to be the soul of a Darwin, whymay we not all grow up to abstract truth? What more do you want?"

As he looked up again, saying these words without thinking of Esther'sinterest, he was startled to see that this time she was listening with avery different expression in her face. She broke in with a questionwhich staggered him. 

"Does your idea mean that the next world is a sort of great reservoir oftruth, and that what is true in us just pours into it like raindrops?"

"Well!" said he, alarmed and puzzled: "the figure is not perfectlycorrect, but the idea is a little of that kind. "

"After all I wonder whether that may not be what Niagara has beentelling me!" said Esther, and she spoke with an outburst of energy thatmade Strong's blood run cold. 

_Chapter X_

Strong kept his word about amusing the two girls. They were not allowedthe time to make themselves unhappy, restless or discontented. ThisSunday afternoon he set out with a pair of the fastest horses to be gotin the neighborhood, and if these did not go several times over thecliff, it was, as Strong had said, rather their own good sense thantheir driver's which held them back. Catherine, who sat by Strong'sside, made the matter worse by taking the reins, and a more recklesslittle Amazon never defied men. Even Strong himself at one moment, whenwreck seemed certain, asked her to kindly see to the publication of aposthumous memoir, and Esther declared that although she did not feardeath, she disliked Catherine's way of killing her. Catherine paid noattention to such ribaldry, and drove on like Phaeton. Wharton wascarried away by the girl's dash and coolness. He wanted to paint her asthe charioteer of the cataract. They drove by the whirlpool, and so farand fast that, when Esther found herself that night tossing and feverishin her bed, she could only dream that she was still skurrying over asnow-bound country, aching with jolts and jerks, but unable ever tostop. The next day she was glad to stay quietly in the house and amuseherself with sketching, while the rest of the party crossed the river toget Mr. Murray's sleeping-berth by the night train to New York, and towaste their time and money on the small attractions of the village. Mr. Murray was forced to return to his office. Wharton, who had no right tobe here at all, for a score of pressing engagements were calling forinstant attention in New York, telegraphed simply that his work woulddetain him several days longer at Niagara, and he even talked ofreturning with the others by way of Quebec. 

While the rest of the party were attending to their own affairs at therailway station and the telegraph office, Wharton and Catherine strolleddown to the little park over the American Fall and looked at the scenefrom there. Catherine in her furs was prettier than ever; her freshcolor was brightened by the red handkerchief she had tied round herneck, and her eyes were more mutinous than usual. As she leaned overthe parapet, and looked into the bubbling torrent which leaped intospace at her feet, Wharton would have liked to carry her off like thetorrent and give her no chance to resist. Yet, reckless as he was, hehad still common sense enough to understand that, until he was fairlyrid of one wife, he could not expect another to throw herself into hisarms, and he awkwardly flitted about her, like a moth about a lantern, unable even to singe his wings in the flame. 

"Then it is decided?" he asked. "You are really going abroad?"

"I am really going to take Esther to Europe for at least two years. Wewant excitement. America is too tame. "

"May I come over and see you there?"

"No followers are to be allowed. I have forbidden Esther to think ofthem. She must devote all her time to art, or I shall be severe withher. "

"But I suppose you don't mean to devote all your own time to art. "

"I must take care of her, " replied Catherine. "Then I have got to writesome more sonnets. My hand is getting out in sonnets. "

"Paris will spoil you; I shall wish you had never left your prairie, "said Wharton sadly. 

"It is you that have spoiled me, " replied she. "You have made meself-conscious, and I am going abroad to escape your influence. "

"Do me a favor when you are there; go to Avignon and Vaucluse; when youcome to Petrarch's house, think of me, for there I passed the mosthopeless hours of my life. "

"No, I will not go there to be sad. Sadness is made only for poetry orpainting. It is your affair, not mine. I mean to be gay. "

"Try, then!" said Wharton. "See for yourself how far gayety will carryyou. My turn will come! We all have to go over that cataract, and youwill have to go over with the rest of us. "

Catherine peered down into the spray and foam beneath as though she werewatching herself fall, and then replied: "I shall stay in the shallowestpuddle I can find. "

"You will one day learn to give up your own life and follow an ideal, "said Wharton. 

Catherine laughed at his solemn speech with a boldness that irritatedhim. "Men are always making themselves into ideals and expecting womento follow them, " said she. "You are all selfish. Tell me now honestly, would you not sell yourself and me and all New York, like Faust in theopera, if you could paint one picture like Titian?"

Wharton answered sulkily: "I would like to do it on Faust's conditions. "

"I knew it, " cried she exultingly. 

"If ever the devil, or any one else, " continued Wharton, "can get me tosay to the passing moment, 'stay, thou art so fair, ' he can have me fornothing. By that time I shall be worth nothing. "

"Your temper will be much sweeter, " interjected Catherine. 

"Faust made a bargain that any man would be glad to make, " growledWharton. "It was not till he had no soul worth taking that the devil hada chance to win. "

Catherine turned on him suddenly with her eyes full of humor: "Then thatis the bargain you offer us women. You want us to take you on conditionthat we amuse you, and then you tell us that if we do amuse you, it willbe because you are no longer worth taking. Thank you! I can amuse myselfbetter. When we come home from Europe, I am going to buy a cattle ranchein Colorado and run it myself. You and Mr. Strong and Mr. Hazard shallcome out there and see it. You will want me to take you on wages ascowboys. I mean to have ten thousand head, and when you see them youwill say that they are better worth painting than all the saints andnaiads round the Mediterranean. "

Wharton looked earnestly at her for a moment before replying, and shemet his eyes with a laugh that left him helpless. Unless takenseriously, he was beneath the level of average men. At last he closedthe talk with a desperate confession of failure. 

"If you will not go to Vaucluse, Miss Brooke, go at least to the BritishMuseum in London, and when you are there, take a long look at what arecalled the Elgin marbles. There you will see Greek warriors killing eachother with a smile on their faces. You remind me of them. You are likeAchilles who answers his Trojan friend's prayer for life by saying:'Die, friend; you are no better than others I have killed. ' I mean toget Miss Dudley to give me her portrait of you, and I shall paint in, over your head: [Greek: PHILOS THANE KAI SY]; and hang it up in mystudio to look at, when I am in danger of feeling happy. "

With this they rambled back again towards their friends and ended forthe time their struggle for mastery. The morning was soon over; allreturned to their hotel, and luncheon followed; a silent meal at whichno one seemed bright except Strong, who felt that the burden wasbeginning to be a heavy one. Had it not been for Strong, not one of theparty would have moved out of the house again that day, but theProfessor privately ordered a sleigh to the door at three o'clock, andpacked his uncle and aunt into it together with Catherine and Wharton. Catherine's love of driving lent her energy, and Mrs. Murray, sadlyenough, consented to let her take the reins. As they drove away, Strongstood on the porch and watched them till they had disappeared down theroad. The afternoon was cloudy and gray, with flakes of snow droppingoccasionally through a despondent air. After the sleigh had gone, Strongstill gazed down the road, as though he expected to see something, butthe road was bare. 

He had stayed at home under the pretense of writing letters, and nowreturned to the sitting-room, where Esther was sketching from the windowa view of the cataract. She went quietly on with her work, while he satdown to write as well as his conscience would allow him; for now that hesaw how much good Esther's escape had done her, how quiet she had becomeagain, and how her look of trouble had vanished, leaving only a tenderlittle air of gravity, as she worked in the silence of her memories; andwhen he thought how violently this serenity was likely to be disturbed, his conscience smote him, he bitterly regretted his interference, androundly denounced himself for a fool. 

"Does Mr. Wharton really care for Catherine?" asked Esther, as she wenton with her sketch. 

"I guess he thinks he does, " answered Strong. "He looks at her as thoughhe would eat her. "

"What a pity!"

"He is tough! Don't waste sympathy on him! If she took him, he wouldmake her a slave within a week. As it is, his passion will go into hispainting. "

"She is a practical young savage, " said Esther. "I thought at one timeshe was dazzled by him, but the moment she saw how unfit she was forsuch a man, she gave it up without a pang. "

"I don't see her unfitness, " replied Strong. "She has plenty of beauty, more common sense than he, and some money which would help him amazinglyexcept that he would soon spend it. I should say it was he who wantedfitness, but you can't harness a mustang with a unicorn. "

"He wants me to study in Paris, " said Esther; "but I mean to go to Romeand Venice. I am afraid to tell him. "

"When do you expect to be there?"

"Some time in May, if we can get any one to take us. "

"Perhaps I will look you up in the summer. If I do not go to Oregon, Imay run over to Germany. "

"We shall be terribly homesick, " replied Esther. 

Silence now followed till Strong finished his letters and looked againat his watch. It was four o'clock. "If he is coming, " thought Strong, "it is time he were here; but I would draw him a check for his church ifhe would stay away. " The jingling of sleigh-bells made itself heard onthe road below as though to rebuke him, and presently a cry of frightfrom Esther at the window told that she knew what was before her. 

"What shall I do?" she cried breathlessly. "Here he is! I can't see him!I can't go through that scene again. George! won't you stop him?"

"What under the sun are you afraid of?" said Strong. "He'll not shootyou! If you don't mean to marry him, tell him so, and this time make itclear. Let there be no mistake about it! But don't send him away if youmean to make yourself unhappy afterwards. "

"Of course I am going to be unhappy afterwards, " groaned Esther. "Whatdo you know about it, George? Do you think I feel about him as you wouldabout a lump of coal? I was just beginning to be quiet and peaceful, andnow it must all start up again. Go away! Leave us alone! But not long!If he is not gone within an hour, come back!"

The next instant the door opened and Hazard was shown into the room. Hismanner at this awkward moment was quiet and self-possessed, as though hehad made it the business of his life to chase flying maidens. Havingtaken his own time, he was not to be thrown off his balance by anyordinary chance. He nodded familiarly to Strong, who left the room as heentered, and walking straight to Esther, held out his hand with a lookof entreaty harder for her to resist than any form of reproach. 

"I told you that I should follow, " he said. 

She drew back, raising her hand to check him, and putting on what sheintended for a forbidding expression. 

"It is my own fault. I should have spoken more plainly, " she replied. 

Instead of taking up the challenge, Hazard turned to the table where herunfinished drawing lay. 

"What a good sketch!" he said, bending over it. "But you have not yetcaught the real fall. I never saw an artist that had. "

Esther's defense was disconcerted by this attack. Hazard was bent ongetting back to his old familiar ground, and she let him take it. Herlast hope was that he might be willing to take it, and be made contentwith it. If she could but persuade him to forget what had passed, andreturn to the footing of friendship which ought never to have been left!This was what she was made for! Her courage rose as she thought thatperhaps this was possible, and as he sat down before the drawing anddiscussed it, she fancied that her object was already gained, and thatthis young greyhound at her elbow could be held in a leash and made toobey a sign. 

In a few minutes he had taken again his old friendly place, and if shedid not treat him with all the old familiarity, he still gained groundenough to warrant him in believing more firmly than ever that she couldnot resist his influence so long as he was at her side. They ran ontogether in talk about the drawing, until he felt that he might riskanother approach, and his way of doing it was almost too easy anddexterous. 

"What you want to get into your picture, " he was saying; "is the air, which the fall has, of being something final. You can't go beyondNiagara. The universe seems made for it. Whenever I come here, I findmyself repeating our sonnet: 'Siccome eterna vita e veder dio;' for thesight of it suggests eternity and infinite power. " Then suddenly puttingdown the drawing, and looking up to her face, as she stood by his side, he said: "Do you know, I feel now for the first time the beauty of thenext two verses:

 'So, lady, sight of you, in my despair, Brings paradise to this brief life and frail. '"

"Hush!" said Esther, raising her hand again; "we are friends now andnothing more. "

"Mere friends, are we?" quoted Hazard, with a courageous smile. "No!" hewent on quickly. "I love you. I cannot help loving you. There is nofriendship about it. "

"If you tell me so, I must run away again. I shall leave the room. Remember! I am terribly serious now. "

"If you tell me, honestly and seriously, that you love me no longer andwant me to go away, I will leave the room myself, " answered Hazard. 

"I won't say that unless you force me to it, but I expect you from thistime to help me in carrying out what you know is my duty. "

"I will promise, on condition that you prove to me first what your dutyis. "

To come back again to their starting point was not encouraging, and theyfelt it, but this time Esther was determined to be obeyed even if itcost her a lover as well as a husband. She did not flinch. 

"What more proof do you need? I am not fit to be a clergyman's wife. Ishould be a scandal in the church, and you would have to choose betweenit and me. "

"I know you better, " said Hazard calmly. "You will find all your fearsvanish if you once boldly face them. "

"I have tried, " said Esther. "I tried desperately and failed utterly. "

"Try once more! Do not turn from all that has been the hope and comfortof men, until you have fairly learned what it is!"

"Is it not enough to know myself?" asked Esther. "Some people are madewith faith. I am made without it. "

Hazard broke in here in a warmer tone: "I know you better than you knowyourself! Do you think that I, whose business it is to witness every dayof my life the power of my faith, am going to hesitate before a triflelike your common, daily, matter-of-course fears and doubts, such as haverisen and been laid in every mind that was worth being called one, eversince minds existed?"

"Have they always been laid?" asked Esther gravely. 

"Always!" answered Hazard firmly; "provided the doubter wanted to laythem. It is a simple matter of will!"

"Would you have gone into the ministry if you had been tormented by themas I am?" she asked. 

"I am not afraid to lay bare my conscience to you, " he replied becomingcool again, and willing perhaps to stretch his own points of consciencein the effort to control hers. "I suppose the clergyman hardly existswho has not been tormented by doubts. As for myself, if I could haveremoved my doubts by so simple a step as that of becoming an atheist, Ishould have done it, no matter what scandal or punishment had followed. I studied the subject thoroughly, and found that for one doubt removed, another was raised, only to reach at last a result more inconceivablethan that reached by the church, and infinitely more hopeless besides. What do you gain by getting rid of one incomprehensible only to put agreater one in its place, and throw away your only hope besides? Theatheists offer no sort of bargain for one's soul. Their scheme is allloss and no gain. At last both they and I come back to a confession ofignorance; the only difference between us is that my ignorance is joinedwith a faith and hope. "

Esther was staggered by this view of the subject, and had to fall backon her common-places: "But you make me say every Sunday that I believein things I don't believe at all. "

"But I suppose you believe at last in something, do you not?" askedHazard. "Somewhere there must be common ground for us to stand on; andour church makes very large--I think too large, allowances fordifference. For my own part, I accept tradition outright, because Ithink it wiser to receive a mystery than to weaken faith; but no oneexacts such strictness from you. There are scores of clergymen to-day inour pulpits who are in my eyes little better than open skeptics, yet Iam not allowed to refuse communion with them. Why should you refuse itwith me? You must at last trust in some mysterious and humanlyincomprehensible form of words. Even Strong has to do this. Why may younot take mine?"

"I hardly know what to trust in, " said Esther sadly. 

"Then trust in me. "

"I wish I could, but--"

"But what? Tell me frankly where your want of confidence lies. "

"I want to tell you, but I'm afraid. This is what has stood between usfrom the first. If I told you what was on my lips, you would think it aninsult. Don't drive me into offending you! If you knew how much I wantto keep your friendship, you would not force me to say such things. "

"I will not be offended, " answered Hazard gayly. "I can stand almost anything except being told that you no longer love me. "

It wrung Esther's heart to throw away a love so pure and devoted. Shefelt ashamed of her fears and of herself. As he spoke, her ears seemedto hear a running echo: "Mistress, know yourself! Down on your knees, and thank heaven fasting for a good man's love!" She sat some momentssilent while he gazed into her face, and her eyes wandered out to thegloomy and cloud-covered cataract. She felt herself being swept over it. Whichever way she moved, she had to look down into an abyss, and leap. 

"Spare me!" she said at last. "Why should you drive and force me to takethis leap? Are all men so tyrannical with women? You do not quarrel witha man because he cannot give you his whole life. "

"I own it!" said Hazard warmly. "I am tyrannical! I want your wholelife, and even more. I will be put off with nothing else. Don't you seethat I can't retreat? Put yourself in my place! Think how you would actif you loved me as I love you!"

"Ah, be generous!" begged Esther. "It is not my fault if you and yourprofession are one; and of all things on earth, to be half-married mustbe the worst torture. "

"You are perfectly right, " he replied. "My profession and I are one, andthis makes my case harder, for I have to fight two battles, one of love, and one of duty. Think for a moment what a struggle it is! I love youpassionately. I would like to say to you: 'Take me on your own terms! Iwill give you my life, as I will take yours. ' But how can I? You aretrembling on the verge of what I think destruction. If I saw you tossingon the rapids yonder, at the edge of the fall, I could not be more eagerto save you. Yet think what self-control I have had to exercise, forthough I have felt myself, for weeks, fighting a battle of life anddeath for a soul much dearer to me than my own, I have gone forward asthough I felt no alarm. I have never even spoken to you on the subject. I stood by, believing so entirely in you that I dared let your ownnature redeem itself. But now you throw out a challenge, and I have nochoice but to meet it. I have got to fight for myself and my professionand you, at the same time. "

At last, then, the battle was fairly joined, and desperately as both thelovers had struggled against it, they looked their destiny in the face. With all Esther's love and sympathy for Hazard, and with all the subtlepower which his presence had on her will, his last speech was unlucky. Here was what she had feared! She seemed to feel now, what she had onlyvaguely suspected before, the restraint which would be put upon her themoment she should submit to his will. He had as good as avowed thatnothing but the fear of losing her had kept him silent. She fancied thatthe thunders of the church were already rolling over her head, and thather mind was already slowly shutting itself up under the checks of itsnew surroundings. Hazard's speech, too, was unlucky in another way. Ifhe had tried not to shock her by taking charge of her soul before sheasked for his interference, she had herself made a superhuman effort notto shock him, and never once had she let drop a word that could offendhis prejudices. Since the truth must now come out, she was the lessanxious to spare his pride because he claimed credit for respectinghers. 

"Must you know why I have broken down and run away?" she said at last. "Well! I will tell you. It was because, after a violent struggle withmyself, I found I could not enter a church without a feeling of--ofhostility. I can only be friendly by staying away from it. I felt asthough it were part of a different world. You will be angry with me forsaying it, but I never saw you conduct a service without feeling asthough you were a priest in a Pagan temple, centuries apart from me. Atany moment I half expected to see you bring out a goat or a ram andsacrifice it on the high altar. How could I, with such ideas, join youat communion?"

No wonder that Esther should have hesitated! Her little speech was notmeant in ridicule of Hazard, but it stung him to the quick. He startedup and walked across the room to the window, where he stood a momenttrying to recover his composure. 

"What you call Pagan is to me proof of an eternal truth handed down bytradition and divine revelation, " he said at length. "But the mereceremonies need not stand in your way. Surely you can disregard them andfeel the truths behind. "

"Oh, yes!" answered Esther, plunging still deeper into the morass. "Theceremonies are picturesque and I could get used to them, but thedoctrines are more Pagan than the ceremonies. Now I have hurt yourfeelings enough, and will say no more. What I have said proves that I amnot fit to be your wife. Let me go in peace!"

Again Hazard thought a moment with a grave face. Then he said: "Everychurch is open to the same kind of attack you make on ours. Do you meanto separate yourself from all communion?"

"If you will create a new one that shall be really spiritual, and notcry: 'flesh--flesh--flesh, ' at every corner, I will gladly join it, andgive my whole life to you and it. "

Hazard shook his head: "I can suggest nothing more spiritual than whatcame from the spirit itself, and has from all time satisfied the purestand most spiritual souls. "

"If I could make myself contented with what satisfied them, I would doit for your sake, " answered Esther. "It must be that we are in a newworld now, for I can see nothing spiritual about the church. It is allpersonal and selfish. What difference does it make to me whether Iworship one person, or three persons, or three hundred, or threethousand. I can't understand how you worship any person at all. "

Hazard literally groaned, and his involuntary expression so irritatedEsther that she ran on still more recklessly. 

"Do you really believe in the resurrection of the body?" she asked. 

"Of course I do!" replied Hazard stiffly. 

"To me it seems a shocking idea. I despise and loathe myself, and yetyou thrust self at me from every corner of the church as though I lovedand admired it. All religion does nothing but pursue me with self eveninto the next world. "

Esther had become very animated in the course of her remarks, and notthe less so because she saw Hazard frown and make gestures of impatienceas she passed from one sacrilege to another. At last he turned at bay, and broke out:

"Do you think all this is new to me? I know by heart all thesecriticisms of the church. I have heard them in one form and another eversince I was a boy at school. They are all equally poor and ignorant. They touch no vital point, for they are made by men, like your cousinGeorge Strong, from whom I suppose you got them, who know nothing of thechurch or its doctrines or its history. I'll not argue over them. Letthem go for whatever you may think they are worth. I will only put toyou one question and no more. If you answer it against me, I will goaway, and never annoy you again. You say the idea of the resurrection isshocking to you. Can you, without feeling still more shocked, think of afuture existence where you will not meet once more father or mother, husband or children? surely the natural instincts of your sex must saveyou from such a creed!"

"Ah!" cried Esther, almost fiercely, and blushing crimson, as thoughHazard this time had pierced the last restraint on her self-control:"Why must the church always appeal to my weakness and never to mystrength! I ask for spiritual life and you send me back to my flesh andblood as though I were a tigress you were sending back to her cubs. Whatis the use of appealing to my sex? the atheists at least show me respectenough not to do that!"

At this moment the door opened and Strong entered. It was high time. Thescene threatened to become almost violent. As Strong came in, Estherwas standing by the fire-place, all her restless features flashing withthe excitement of her last speech. Hazard, with his back to the window, was looking at her across the room, his face dark with displeasure. AsStrong stepped between them, a momentary silence followed, when not asound was heard except the low thunder of the falling waters. One wouldhave said that storm was in the air. Suddenly Hazard turned on theunlucky professor and hurled at him the lightning. 

"You are the cause of all this! what is your motive?"

Strong looked at him with surprise, but understood in a moment what hadhappened. Seeing himself destined in any case to be the victim of thecoming wrath, he quietly made up his mind to bear the lot of allmediators and inter-meddlers. 

"I am afraid you are half right, " he answered. "My stupidity may havemade matters a little worse. "

"What was your motive?" repeated Hazard sternly. 

"My motive was to fight your battle for you, " replied Strong unruffled;"and I did it clumsily, that's all! I might have known it beforehand. "

"Have you been trying to supplant me in order to get yourself in myplace?" demanded Hazard, still in the tone of a master. 

"No!" replied Strong, half inclined to laugh. 

"You will never find happiness there!" continued Hazard, turning toEsther, and pointing with a sweep of his hand to Strong. 

"Esther agrees with you on that point, " said Strong, beginning to thinkit time that this scene should end. "I don't mind telling you, too, thatsince I have seen her stand out against your persecution, I would giveany chance I have of salvation if she would marry me; but you needn't bealarmed about it, --she won't!"

"She will!" broke in Hazard abruptly. "You have betrayed me, and yourconduct is all of a piece with your theories. " Then turning to Esther, who still stood motionless and silent before the fire, he went on: "I ambeaten. You have driven me away, and I will never trouble you again, till, in your days of suffering and anguish you send to me for hope andconsolation. Till then--God bless you!"

The silence was awful when his retreating footsteps could no longer beheard. It was peace, but the peace of despair. As the sound of thejangling sleigh-bells slowly receded from the door, and Esther realizedthat the romance of her life was ended, she clasped her hands togetherin a struggle to control her tears. Strong walked once or twice up anddown the room, buried in thought, then suddenly stopping before her, hesaid in his straight-forward, practical way:

"Esther, I meant it! you have fought your battle like a heroine. If youwill marry me, I will admire and love you more than ever a woman wasloved since the world began. "

Esther looked at him with an expression that would have been a smile ifit had not been infinitely dreary and absent; then she said, simply andfinally:

"But George, I don't love you, I love him. "

THE END.