houlders and a slight stoop, his finely-cut
features, white skin and soft, flowing, raven-black hair. Their
resemblance was rendered all the more striking by the fact that each
wore a simple, narrow circlet of gold-round the head; nay it would have
seemed some unusual trick of Nature's but that their eyes were quite
unlike. Hers were black, and their gaze was shrewd and sharp and
sometimes sternly hard; while the dreamy lustre of her son's, which were
blue, lent his face an almost feminine softness.

She must have been discussing some grave questions with the old man,
for, as the young man entered the room, she colored slightly and her
long, taper fingers impatiently tapped the back of the couch on which
she was lounging.

Marcus kissed first the priest's hand and then his mother's, and,
after enquiring with filial anxiety after her health, informed her that
Demetrius would presently be coming to take leave of her.

"How condescending?" she said coldly. "You know reverend Father what it
is that I require of him and that he refuses. His peasants--always his
peasants! Now can you tell me why they, who must feel the influence and
power of their masters so much more directly than the lower class in
towns, they, whose weal or woe so obviously depends on the will of the
Most High, are so obstinately set against the Gospel of Salvation?"

"They cling to what they are used to," replied the old man. "The seed
they sow bore fruit under the old gods; and as they cannot see nor
handle our Heavenly Father as they can their idols, and at the same
time have nothing better to hope for than a tenth or a twentieth of the
grain..."

"Yes, mine and thine--the miserable profit of this world!" sighed the
widow. "Oh! Demetrius can defend the idolatry of his favorites warmly
enough, never fear. If you can spare the time, good Father, stay and
help me to convince him."

"I have already stayed too long," replied the priest, "for the Bishop
has commanded my presence. I should like to speak to you, my dear
Marcus; to-morrow morning, early, will you come to me? The Lord be with
you, beloved!"

He rose, and as he gave Mary his hand she detained him a moment signing
to her son to leave them, and said in a low tone:

"Marcus must not suspect that I know of the error into which he has been
led; speak roundly to his conscience, and as to the girl, I will take
her in hand. Will it not be possible for Theophilus to grant me an
interview?"

"Ha