It is out of harmony with terrestrial things. Why, when those three men put out their hands this morning for you to touch, I held my breath at their presumption. looked for three bolts from heaven to wither the extended arms." "And your own face, Mr. Boyd, gives no indication of the subtleness of your irony: unkind, perhaps, but extremely clever." "Irony! Never! I had no such thought! I am merely announcing the discovery that with a different exterior you would have been less perfect, but more comfortable." Something in her manner invited a discontinuance of that particular topic. He drew an attenuated hand across his mouth, changed his position, as if on the point of saying more; but he held his peace. Some minutes later, when Miss Marshall's maid approached this silent couple, her progress, owing to the movement of the deck, consisted of rapid little runs followed by sudden pauses, during which she clung, with one hand, to the rail and with the other held down her hat. She had come up to ask if her mistress needed anything. Was she warm enough? Would she have "If this is not irony it is something still more offensive. I gave you credit for a finer touch." "I may be clumsy, but not malicious." another wrap? "Then explain." Well, you see, having a tender conscience, you have felt a sense of fraud whenever confronted by your own reflection. Being human you have had, presumably, ambitions, envies, appetites, prejudices, vanities, and other human ills of which the face before you gave no indication. And so, feeling the preternatural excellence of that face a lie, you have tried to live up to it; that is, to avoid being a humbug. In short, your life has been a strenuous endeavor to be unnecessarily wise and impossibly good." As their side of the steamer rose high above the sea after an unusual plunge, he added: “And I am afraid you have succeeded." She remained silent, lost apparently in another revery, watching the changes in the west. The light was fading. On sea and sky a more melancholy tone had come; du̟ll, slaty grays crowding in from every quar ter. And over the darkening waters there seemed a tragic note, half-threatening, intensified by every plunge of the steamer and by the swish of waters very near the deck. There was a touch of melancholy, also, in the steady thumping of the engines. She said, at last, pleasantly, but in a serious tone : "I have been reflecting on your discourse. If ironical, it was unkind. If sincere it was not impertinent, perhaps, but certainly not justified by our short acquaintance." Miss Marshall needed nothing herself, but asked for news of Mr. Appleton Marshall, and if Father Burke was feeling better. Louise had seen nothing of Mr. Marshall since dinner, but she had left Father Burke reclining in the main saloon, not very sick, nor very well, but lower in his mind. As her maid departed, the lady expressed sympathy for the suffering uncle. "And poor Father Burke ! He is terribly uncomfortable, I am sure." "Yes," said Pats. I saw in his face a look of uncertainty the wavering faith that comes from meals with an upward tendency." Pats thought this want of sympathy was resented. He is a most lovable man,” she said, "of fine character, and with a splendid mind. You would like him if you knew him better." Here was his opportunity; his chance for a rescue. He would snatch her from the clutches of her captor. So he answered, sadly, in a tone of brotherly affection : "I like him now. That is why I regret that he should devote himself to such a questionable enterprise." "What enterprise?" "His church." With a forced calmness, she replied: "This is the first time I ever heard the first religion of Christendom called a questionable enterprise.'" "Leo X. spoke of it as a 'profitable fable.' Perhaps that was better." "Did Leo X. say that of the Catholic Church? "Yes." "I don't believe it." "Because you have too high an opinion of Leo?" She spoke calmly, but in her voice he detected a less friendly note. In a joking, incredulous tone, he replied: “Well, then, I am a Catholic, too.” "I am serious. My faith to me is a sacred thing. It has brought me a more "No; but he was a Pope of Rome, and tranquil spirit, a deeper knowledge, and at I simply cannot believe it." fuller conception of what I owe to others "Some popes of Rome have been awful and to myself." examples for the young." "So have men in all positions." Yes, but when they set up as Christ's Apostles they should not be." Then, in a reflective, somewhat sorrowful manner, he continued: "But the Enterprise has an enemy in the printing-press. The two can't live together." Of this statement there was no recognition, except a straightening up in the steamer-chair. He continued, pleasantly: "In England, Germany, and America, for instance." "Perhaps you forget that in the United States alone there are more than seven million Catholics." In the dim light which had gathered over everything, he could see the delicate eyebrows drawing together in a frown. But he went on, cheerfully, as if giving offence had not occurred to him. "Now, Spain is enthusiastically Catholic. And for ignorance-solid, comprehensive, reliable ignorance-there is nothing like it in 'the solar system." "Their ignorance is their own fault. Education and progress have always been encouraged by the Catholic Church." "You mean by the rack and stake." "When, for example, she notified Galileo that if he maintained the earth was round instead of flat, she would roast him alive, as she had already roasted Bruno?" She was very much in earnest. "Then I beg your pardon," he said, "for speaking as I did." She tried to smile. "It is more my fault than yours. Religious discussions never do any good." As Then she arose from her chair, and he knew from the exceeding dignity of her manner that his offence was serious. But this dignity met with cruel reverses. she stood up, their side of the steamer was just starting on a downward lurch; one of those long, deep, quivering plunges, apparently for the bottom of the sea; slow at first, but gaining in rapidity. And Elinor Marshall, instead of turning away with frigid ceremony, as she intended, first stood irresolute, as if taken unawares yet suspecting danger-then tip-toed forward and rushed impetuously into the gentleman's arms. These arms were forced to encircle the sudden arrival, otherwise both man and woman would have tumbled to the deck. Then, she pushed him hard against the rail. But even that was not the end. For there she held him, to her shame, pressing against him with the whole weight of her body. this lasted, it seemed to her, an hour-a year-a lifetime of mortification and of helpless rage; the wind all the time screaming louder and louder with a brutish glee. And Her choking exclamations of chagrin were close to his ears, and he felt her hair against his face. But he was powerless "If you are happy in that belief, I will to aid in her struggles to regain the lost not destroy it." equilibrium. However good his wishes. he could do nothing but stand as a cushion-a poor one at that-between herself and the rail. "It is a historic fact, but I am no happier for believing it. However, too much education is a nuisance, and very likely Mother Church was wise in toasting an astronomer now and then." "Your conclusions are rather entertaining. I am a Catholic myself, and my own reading has brought conclusions that are quite different." Finally, at the end of time, when the deck came up again, she backed away with flaming cheeks. Pats apologized: so did she. He wished to assist her to the cabin-stairs, but the offer was ignored, and she left him. IV-NORTHWARD NOT since her change of faith-never in fact had Elinor Marshall listened to such open abuse of a sacred institution. And the memory of it kept her wide awake during a portion of that night. Although she had decided to ignore his argument of the printing-press it wormed itself into the inner chambers of her brain; and it refused to yield to better thoughts. As the possessor of a despotic conscience she suffered the miseries of guilt. For, despite all reasoning of her own, she began to feel that unless those arguments were refuted her faith might suffer; and, with her, an untarnished faith was vital. The motion of her berth, the rhythmic pounding of the engines, the muffled sound at intervals of feet upon the deck, all were soothing; but the remembrance of that discussion, with its mortifying climax, made sleep impossible. This childish sensitiveness she fully realized—and despised - but nerves achieved an easy victory over reason. She was glad when daylight came. Long before the breakfast hour she had left her state-room and sought the deck for fresher air, and for Father Burke. He, also an early riser, was discovered in the lee of the upper cabins, his little prayerbook in his hand. Sitting close beside him she gave, in detail, the story of her conversation with Mr. Boyd. It was in the nature of a confession, but delivered in the hope and in the faith of the enemy's discomfiture. She felt, of course, that the statements concerning the press and ignorance were false and foolish, and she knew that Father Burke could tell her why. Her confidence was not misplaced. It was not the first time Father Burke had been called upon to stiffen the faith of wavering converts. Considerable experience and a perfect familiarity with the subject rendered the task an easy one. The tones of Father Burke's voice were, in themselves, almost sufficient for the purpose. Deep, calm, mellow, ravish ingly sympathetic, they played like celestial zephyrs upon the chords of the maiden's heart. They filled the inmost recesses of her soul with security and peace. His arguments were the old, familiar ones; but he knew his audience. And when the spell had worked, when the wings beside him ceased to flutter, he drove the final bolt. "You know, my child, that the value of a statement depends largely upon the character of him who utters it. I have no desire to injure this young man, nor to prejudice you in any way against him; but it is clearly my duty to warn you that he is not a person with whom it would be safe for you to permit a very close acquaintance." "You need have no anxiety on that point." "I am very glad to hear it." "But tell me what you know about him, Father Burke. His family never mention his name, and I supposed there was something to conceal. Was it anything very bad?” I have always man, of a per 'Yes, bad enough. heard of him as a wilful verse and violent temper. His utterances of yesterday are in perfect accord with the spirit he displayed in youth. He broke his father's heart." "From his face one would never suspect that part of it—the violent temper. He appears to be a person of unusual cheerfulness and serenity-most offensively serene at times." "Very possible, my child. One of the hardest things to learn, and we seldom achieve it in youth, is that outward appearances often bear no relation to the inner man; that the most inviting face can hide a vicious nature." “As an old friend of the family I knew the circumstances." "Awful! How did it happen ? " "They were in the garden-in an arbor-engaged in a controversy. In his anger he struck the old gentleman and knocked him down, and would have killed him had not others interfered." A silence followed, not broken by Father Burke. He desired his listener to realize the iniquity of the deed. At last she inquired, half-timidly: After another pause she said, reflect ively: Then they went below to breakfast. The girl was hungry; Father Burke was not. The undulations of the boat had so tempered his appetite that food had lost its charm. A cup of tea and a bite of toast were the limits of his endeavor. Even these descended under protest and threatened to return. When the heretic-the victim of the plot-appeared soon after and took his seat at the table, he noticed that the greetings he received, while friendly and all that etiquette required, were less cordial than on the day before. And this was emphasized, later, when he joined Miss Marshall on the deck. "The father had a temper too, I fan- After a moment's conversation, which was cy, from what I know of him." Toward the face beside him the priest cast a sidelong look-which was detected. "I am not defending the son," she said, hastily. "Heaven forbid! I almost hate him. But you must admit that the father was not an especially lovable character-nor very gentle in his ways." "He had his faults, like the rest of us, but he was a rare man; a religious man of deep convictions; and the soul of honor." "Yes, I suppose so, but I was always afraid of him." Father Burke laid his hand on her arm and said, very gently but with unusual seriousness: "I should regret exceedingly, my child, to have you listen to the flippant sacrilege of this young man, or be subjected to his influence in any way." "There is no cause for alarm. I shall have as little to do with him as possible." "An excellent resolve. And now, will you grant me a request ?" "Certainly." "I have no right to exact a promise. I only suggest that while on this boat you avoid as far as possible his companionship." "I promise." They both arose. His voice and manner were always impressive, even in ordinary conversation. But now a moisture gathered in the maiden's eyes as he gazed benignly into her face and murmured, in tones tremulous with feeling: "May Heaven bless you, my daughter, for your noble spirit, and for your unswerving devotion to a holy cause." VOL. XXX.-22 obviously from a sense of duty, she spoke of letters to be written and went below. And once again, to make sure that this disgrace was no fancy of his own, he approached her as she sat reading, or, at least, with a book in her hand. In his best and most easy manner, he inquired : "Did you ever hear of the Magdalen Islands, Miss Marshall ?" They are off there to the westward, between twenty and thirty miles away, but out of sight, of course." Amiably she inclined her head in recognition of the news, but made no reply. It began to be awkward for Pats. But he resolved to suppress any outward manifestations of that state. This task was all the harder as his legs embarrassed him. He knew them to be thin-of a thinness that was startling and unprecedented— and now, as he confronted the northeast wind, their shrunken and ridiculous outlines were cruelly exposed. He was sensitive about these members, and he thought she had glanced furtively in their direction. However, with his usual buoyancy, he continued: "And now we leave land behind us until we reach the northern shore of the gulf." "Yes?" Although she gazed pensively over the water, and with conspicuous amiability, something seemed to suggest that the present conversation had reached a natural end. So the skeleton moved away. friendly pinches and the wandering of fingers about the ears. "Bad place for a dog, old chap. Lots of motion here, and smells, but 'twill soon be over. So, cheer up. Anyway, you are lots better off than I am. In a single interview I have secured the contempt of an exceptionally fine woman. Yes, your Pats has done well." With Pats a hint was enough. During the remainder of the voyage, at meals and the few occasions on which he met the lady, he also was genial and outwardly undisturbed, but he took every care that she should be subjected to no annoyance from his companionship. This outward calmness, however, bore no resemblance to his inward tribulation. Such was his desire for her good opinion that this sudden plunge from favor to disgrace-or, at least, to a frigid toleration-brought a keen distress. Moreover, he was mortified at having allowed himself, under any pretext, to jeer at her religion. "Ass, ass! impossible ass!" he mut- stupendous ass. And he is right. Pertered a dozen times that day. Meanwhile the Maid of the North was driving steadily along, always to the north and east. On the morning of the second day her passengers had glimpses, to the larboard, of the shores of Nova Scotia. Later they rounded Cape Breton, and then, against a howling wind and a choppy sea, headed north into the Gulf of St. Lawrence. The Maid of the North was a sturdy boat, and though she pitched and tossed in a way that disarranged the mechanism of her passengers, she did nothing to destroy their confidence. It was the evening of this last day of the voyage, when Pats, feeling the need of companionship in his misery, descended for a final interview with Solomon. Through a dismal part of the steamer he groped his way until his eyes became accustomed to the gloom. Solomon heard his step and knew him from afar. He whined, pulled hard at his chain, and stood up on his hind legs, waving his front ones in excited welcome. "There is somebody glad to see me, anyway," thought Pats, as he sat on an anchor bar with the dog's head between his knees. There had always been more or less conversation between these two: not that Solomon understood the exact meaning of all the words, but he did thoroughly understand that trust and affection formed the bulk of the sentiments expressed. And these things being the basis of Solomon's character rendered him a sympathetic and grateful listener. The monologue, address, oration, confidence-or whatever-was delivered in a low tone, accompanied by strokings of the listener's head, taps, He smiled in the darkness-a melancholy smile. "She probably told everything to the priest, and he has explained to her satisfaction wherein I am a fool-a malicious, blaspheming, dangerous villain, and a haps, in time-a long time—I may learn that insulting people's religion isn't the shortest road to popularity." In his abstraction the hand, for an instant, was withdrawn. Solomon protested, and the attentions were resumed. "Keep still, old man, I am not going. And don't get that chain around your legs. But she is a fine girl, Sol; too fine, perhaps. Just a little, wee bit too everlastingly high-minded and superior for ordinary dogs like us.” While administering these pearls of wisdom, the speaker had become interested in two approaching figures, dimly visible in the obscurity. As they came nearer he saw that one, the older of the two-a man with gray chin whiskers and a blue jersey was drunk. This man stopped, and holding the other by the arm exclaimed: "It's so, damn it! It's so, I tell yer! What's he doin' this minute? He's blind drunk in his cabin. Why, the jag on him would sink a man-o'-war. Oh, he's a daisy cap'n, he is!" "He'll be all right in the mornin'." "All right in the mornin'! It'll be a week! And where'll we be to-morrow mornin' ? Where are we now? God knows, and He ain't tellin'." With a maudlin gesture and a reverberating hiccup, the speaker, following the motion of the boat, pushed his friend against the wall and held him there. "I'll tell yer where we are; we are more'n fifty miles east of where we think we are. We ain't sighted Anticosti yet. And we ain't goin' to." The other man laughed, "Oh, shut up, Bart. |