re qualities, not to be
revealed to the every-day world, that gives to genius that shy, reserved
and troubled air, which puzzles and flatters you, when you encounter it.
Cora realized her beauty and genius; but, with that charming
versatility, that of right belongs to woman, she had the faculty of
bending and modelling her graceful intellect to all whom she met.

Her rare genius, however, could not brook the cold reproofs of the
bigoted Parris. The flower which might have ornamented his chapel and
filled the little church with sweetest perfume was withered by the
chilling frosts of bigotry and prejudice. A player could yield no
perfume for Christ, and the sweet, musical voice was stilled, and the
heart so full of love, emotion and religion was chilled and driven into
exile; but she lived and hoped in her own little world. The sunlight of
love was on her heart, until the name of Adelpha Leisler shut out that
sunlight and left all in darkness and despair.

Though Cora was excommunicated for being the child of a player, she
never let go her hold on Christ. Her father, strolling actor as he was,
had taught her to look to God for everything, and in her hour of trial,
she knelt in the seclusion of her own room and prayed that this cup
might pass from her lips, if it be the Lord's will; but if not, she
asked God to give her strength to bear her suffering and trials. She
freely forgave Mr. Parris, for she believed his persecution of herself
and others was through mistaken zeal.

With Charles Stevens, she was more shy than she used to be. She kept
aloof from him for two or three days, until her conduct became
noticeable, and Charles one day sought her in the garden for an
explanation.

"Have I offended you, Cora?" he asked.

She turned her frightened eyes to his for a moment and answered:

"No."

"Then why do you avoid me? I have scarcely seen you for three days."

She was overwhelmed with hope and confusion for some moments; then, with
a faltering voice, she asked:

"Did you wish to see me?"

"I did, Cora. I would not give offence to you for the world, and I
feared I had in some way wounded your feelings."

"Charles, was not Mr. Parris here the other morning?"

"Yes."

"You went away with him; I saw you through my window."

"I did."

"Why did he come?"

"Don't ask me about that man. He is one whom I would to God I had never
known."

"Don't speak so of him, Charles."

"Cora, he is a bad man."

"He is t