XX.

JULIET.

Ann, having completed her mistress' unusual and oft-resisted toilet,
received with surprise a message to convey to Father Duffy. She glanced
at Mrs. Temple, to discover if she were really in her right mind. Upon
this point she could not satisfy herself, for Juliet had buried her
flushed face in the fresh handkerchief she had just given her, and added
but the words: "go at once!"

Father Duffy, but little past the prime of life, was in the full vigor
of energy and usefulness. A worker himself, he infused others with his
spirit; droneishness wilted under the scorching rays of his perpetual
activity, as weeds wither in the noon-day sun. He had accomplished
wonders in his parish, and many another, less efficient than himself,
might have supposed nothing more was to be done. Not so, thought Father
Duffy. Literally and figuratively hills were to be brought down, and
level places to be made smooth.

By precept, and still more by example, he taught his people to bear
their burdens heroically, their prosperity with humility, their
adversity with pious resignation. He had little patience with
indecision, still less with querulousness and complaints. With those of
his class, he believed that one's "first fruits" should be given unto
God. One's best emotions, fullest love, highest loyalty, precious
treasure. He had no faith in the piety of him, who, living in a costly
dwelling, proposed to worship God in a habitation mean and contemptible;
nor in that of her, who, clad in a thousand-dollar shawl, would drop a
five-cent upon the plate of charity.

He was as quick to perceive, as was his will to act, or his hand to do.
He saw at once through all sham and artifice. He could be almost said to
perceive what was passing through one's mind, so quick was his
discernment, so penetrating his thought. He might have been a Jesuit,
nor fallen a whit behind the most polished and profound of that
marvellous society of men.

Poor Juliet! To have sent for such a man, whose one glance could dissect
her thoroughly! But, let us wait; maybe we shall have no occasion to
repeat the epithet just applied to her name.

Juliet little understood, indeed, was incapable of comprehending the
nature of the man whom she had invoked into her presence. Otherwise, she
would never have sent for him. She had bestowed no particular thought
upon him, anyhow; but he shared involuntarily in that measure of
contempt, which she ever had cherished for