d, "I am much changed of late. The prospect before me
is a dark one--a mysterious one. It is not many months since my head
was dizzy with the gloomy splendor which the pomps and ceremonies of the
Church--soon, I trust, to be restored in this country to all her pride
and power--presented to my imagination. But I have mingled with those on
whom before this--that is, during my boyhood--I looked with awe, as on
men who held vested in themselves some mysterious and spiritual power. I
have mingled with them, Susan, and I find them neither better nor worse
than those who still look upon them as I once did."

"Well, but, Denis, how does that bear upon your views?"

"It does, Susan. I said I have found them neither better nor worse than
their fellow-creatures; but I believe they are not so happy. I think
I could perceive a gloom, even in their mirth, that told of some
particular thought or care that haunted them like a spirit. Some of
them and not a few, in the moments of undisguised feeling, dissuaded me
against ever entering the Church."

"I am sure they're happy," said Susan. "Some time ago, accordin' to your
own words, you thought the same; but something has turned your heart
from the good it was fixed upon. You're in a dangerous time, Denis; and
it's not to be wondhered at, if the temptations of the devil should thry
you now, in hopes to turn you from the service of God. This is a warnin'
to me, too, Denis. May Heaven above forbid that I should be made the
means of temptin' you from the duty that's before you!"

"No, Susan, dear, it's not temptation, but the fear of temptation, that
prevails with me."

"But, Denis, surely if you think yourself not worthy to enter that
blessed state, you have time enough to avoid it."

"Ay, but, Susy, there is the difficulty. I am now so placed that I can
hardly go back. First, the disgrace of refusing to enter the Church
would lie upon me as if I had committed a crime. Again, I would break my
father's and my mother's heart: and rather than do that, I could almost
submit to be miserable for life. And finally, I could not live in the
family, nor bear the indignation of my brothers and other relations. You
know, Susan, as well as I do, the character attached to those who put
their friends to the expense of educating them for the Church, who raise
their hopes and their ambition, and afterwards disappoint them."

"I know it."

"This, Susan, dear, prevails with me. Besides, the Church now