her taste.  The mingled murmur of the loud responses, in those rhythmic phrases, so simple, yet so fervent, almost as if every tenth heart-beat, instead of its dull tic-tac, articulated itself as “Good Lord, deliver us! “—­the sweet alternation of the two choirs, as their holy song floated from side to side, the keen young voices rising like a flight of singing-birds that passes from one grove to another, carrying its music with it back and forward,—­why should she not love these gracious outward signs of those inner harmonies which none could deny made beautiful the lives of many of her fellow-worshippers in the humble, yet not inelegant Chapel of Saint Polycarp?

The young Marylander, who was born and bred to that mode of worship, had introduced her to the chapel, for which he did the honors for such of our boarders as were not otherwise provided for.  I saw them looking over the same prayer-book one Sunday, and I could not help thinking that two such young and handsome persons could hardly worship together in safety for a great while.  But they seemed to mind nothing but their prayer-book.  By-and-by the silken bag was handed round.—­I don’t believe she will; so awkward, you know;—­besides, she only came by invitation.  There she is, with her hand in her pocket, though,—­and sure enough, her little bit of silver tinkled as it struck the coin beneath.  God bless her! she has n’t much to give; but her eye glistens when she gives it, and that is all Heaven asks.—­That was the first time I noticed these young people together, and I am sure they behaved with the most charming propriety,—­in fact, there was one of our silent lady-boarders with them, whose eyes would have kept Cupid and Psyche to their good behavior.  A day or two after this I noticed that the young gentleman had left his seat, which you may remember was at the corner diagonal to that of Iris, so that they have been as far removed from each other as they could be at the table.  His new seat is three or four places farther down the table.  Of course I made a romance out of this, at once.  So stupid not to see it!  How could it be otherwise?—­Did you speak, Madam?  I beg your pardon. (To my lady-reader.)

I never saw anything like the tenderness with which this young girl treats her little deformed neighbor.  If he were in the way of going to church, I know she would follow him.  But his worship, if any, is not with the throng of men and women and staring children.

I, the Professor, on the other hand, am a regular church-goer.  I should go for various reasons if I did not love it; but I am happy enough to find great pleasure in the midst of devout multitudes, whether I can accept all their creeds or not.  One place of worship comes nearer than the rest to my ideal standard, and to this it was that I carried our young girl.