d made
her way to the altar railing. There she paused, staring vaguely at a
basket of flowers, white and odorous, that had been left there by some
reverent worshipper. She glanced doubtfully at the swinging silver
lamps, the twinkling candles; she was conscious, too, of a subtle,
strange fragrance in the air, as though a basket full of spring violets
and daffodils had just been carried by; then, as her wandering gaze came
back to the solitary woman in black, who still knelt motionless near
her, a sort of choking sensation came into her throat and a stinging
moisture struggled in her eyes. She strove to turn this hysterical
sensation to a low laugh of disdain.

"Lord, Lord!" she muttered beneath her breath, "what sort of place is
this, where they pray to a woman and a baby?"

At that moment the woman in black rose; she was young, with a
proud, fair, but weary face. Her eyes lighted on her soiled and
poverty-stricken sister, and she paused with a pitying look. The street
wanderer made use of the opportunity thus offered, and in an urgent
whisper implored charity. The lady drew out a purse, then hesitated,
looking wistfully at the bundle in the shawl.

"You have a child there?" she asked, in gentle accents. "May I see it?"

"Yes, lady," and the wrapper was turned down sufficiently to disclose
the tiny white face, now more infinitely touching than ever in the
pathos of sleep.

"I lost my little one a week ago," said the lady, simply, as she looked
at it. "He was all I had." Her voice trembled; she opened her purse, and
placed a half-crown in the hand of her astonished supplicant. "You are
happier than I am; perhaps you will pray for me. I am very lonely!"

Then dropping her long crape veil so that it completely hid her
features, she bent her head and moved softly away. The woman watched her
till her graceful figure was completely lost in the gloom of the great
church, and then turned again vaguely to the altar.

"Pray for her!" she thought. "I! As if I could pray!" And she smiled
bitterly. Again she looked at the statue in the shrine; it had no
meaning at all for her. She had never heard of Christianity save through
the medium of a tract, whose consoling title had been "Stop! You are
Going to Hell!" Religion of every sort was mocked at by those among whom
her lot was cast, the name of Christ was only used as a convenience to
swear by, and therefore this mysterious, smiling, gently inviting marble
figure was incompre