right what he had heard,
disappointed at its brevity, but waiting on in a kind of wonder through
canticle, hymn, and gloria, in a deep abasement that had struck the
singer dumb, could she above there have known what was going on here
below.

When the singing was over he went away as he had purposed, but it was
only to the steps of the church. There he sat until he heard a stir
within announcing that the services were ended, when he walked away. But
the first person who had heard and understood that voice heard nothing
after. He was continually waiting for it, but he had no further sign.
Once his attention was for a moment turned towards the preacher, who was
dwelling on St. Paul's allusion to himself as an ambassador in bonds; he
looked at that instant towards Mr. Deane, who, it happened, was at the
same moment gazing uneasily at him. After that his eyes did not wander
any more, and from his impassive face it was impossible to discover what
his thoughts might be.

To go back now a day or two.

II.

A pleasant sound of young voices, that became subdued as the children
passed from street to church-yard, rose from the shadowy elm-walk and
floated up through the branches towards the window of the organist, who
seemed to have been waiting some such summons, for she now threw aside
the manuscript music she had been studying, arrayed herself in her
shawl, threw a scarf around her head, and looked at the clock. Straight
she gazed at it, a moment full, before she seemed instructed in the fact
represented on the dial-plate, thinking still, most likely, of the score
she had been revising. Some thought at least as profound, as
unfathomable, and as immeasurable as was thereon represented, possessed
her, as she now, with a glance around the room, retired from it.

With herself in the apartment it was another sort of place from what it
looked when she had left it.

There were three pictures on the wall,--three, and no more. One was a
copy of the lovely portraiture of Milton's musical inspired youth; the
wonderful eyes, the "breezy hair," the impassioned purity of the
countenance, looked down on the place where the musician might be found
three-fourths of her waking hours, at her piano. In other parts of the
room, opposite each other, were pictures of the Virgin ever-blessed!
conquering, crowned.

In the first she stood with foot upon the Serpent, that lay coiled on
the apex of the globe. She had crushed the Destroyer; the w