to him.

"Pure and artless souls like yours," he said, "cannot measure the
temptations of those who are called to the real battle of life in a
world like this. How many nobler aspirations fall withered in the fierce
heat and struggle of the conflict!"

He was saying then what he really felt, often bitterly felt,--but
_using_ this real feeling advisedly, and with skilful tact, for the
purpose of the hour.

What was this purpose? To win the regard, the esteem, the tenderness of
a religious, exalted nature shrined in a beautiful form,--to gain and
hold ascendency. It was a life-long habit,--one of those forms of
refined self-indulgence which he pursued, thoughtless and reckless of
consequences. He had found now the key-note of the character; it was a
beautiful instrument, and he was well pleased to play on it.

"I think, Sir," said Mary, modestly, "that you forget the great
provision made for our weakness."

"How?" he said.

"They that _wait on the Lord_ shall renew their strength," she replied,
gently.

He looked at her, as she spoke these words, with a pleased, artistic
perception of the contrast between her worldly attire and the simple,
religious earnestness of her words.

"She is entrancing!" he thought to himself,--"so altogether fresh and
_naive_!"

"My sweet saint," he said, "such as you are the appointed guardians of
us coarser beings. The prayers of souls given up to worldliness and
ambition effect little. You must intercede for us. I am very orthodox,
you see," he added, with that subtle smile which sometimes irradiated
his features. "I am fully aware of all that your reverend doctor tells
you of the worthlessness of unregenerate doings; and so, when I see
angels walking below, I try to secure 'a friend at court.'"

He saw that Mary looked embarrassed and pained at this banter, and
therefore added, with a delicate shading of earnestness,--

"In truth, my fair young friend, I hope you _will_ sometimes pray for
me. I am sure, if I have any chance of good, it will come in such a
way."

"Indeed I will," said Mary, fervently,--her little heart full, tears
in her eyes, her breath coming quick,--and she added, with a deepening
color, "I am sure, Mr. Burr, that there should be a covenant blessing
for you, if for any one, for you are the son of a holy ancestry."

"_Eh, bien, mon ami, qu'est ce que tu fais ici_?" said a gay voice
behind a clump of box; and immediately there started out, like a French
pic