n ... she was
standing on the grassy lawn; the shadows of the leaves flickered over
her white gown....

At last the quivering eyelids were lifted. She turned her head slowly,
and looked steadily at him. He held his breath. A cart rumbled along the
cobble-stones outside; the puny wail of a child sounded across the
stillness; a handful of rose leaves from a vase at the foot of the altar
dropped on the hem of Madame Arnault's dress. It might have been the
gaze of an angel in a world where there is no marrying nor giving in
marriage, so pure was it, so passionless, so free of anything like
earthly desire.

As she turned her face again towards the altar the bell in the tower
above ceased tolling; a triumphant chorus leaped into the air, borne
aloft by joyous organ tones. The first rays of the morning sun streamed
in through the small windows. Then light penetrated into the nuns'
choir, and enveloped like a mantle of gold Sister Mary of the Cross, who
in the world had been Felicite Arnault.

A Faded Scapular

BY F. D. MILLET

We are seldom able to trace our individual superstitions to any definite
cause, nor can we often account for the peculiar sensations developed in
us by the inexplicable and mysterious incidents in our experience. Much
of the timidity of childhood may be traced to early training in the
nursery, and sometimes the moral effects of this weakness cannot be
eradicated through a lifetime of severe self-control and mental
suffering. The complicated disorders of the imagination which arise from
superstitious fears can frequently be accounted for only by inherited
characteristics, by peculiar sensitiveness to impressions, and by an
overpowering and perhaps abnormally active imagination. I am sure I am
confessing to no unusual characteristic when I say that I have felt from
childhood a certain sentiment or sensation in regard to material things
which I can trace to no early experience, to the influence of no
literature, and to no possible source, in fact, but that of inherited
disposition.

The sentiment I refer to is this: whatever has belonged to or has been
used by any person seems to me to have received some special quality,
which, though often invisible and still oftener indefinable, still
exists in a more or less strong degree according to the amount of the
impressionable power, if I may call it so, which distinguished the
possessor. I am aware that this sentiment may be stigmatized as of the