I saw that the majority were bent only on the aggrandizement of their particular denomination.  Verily, I thought in my heart, ’Is all this bickering the result of their religion?  How these churches do hate each other!’ According to each, salvation could only be found in their special tenets—­within the pale of their peculiar organization; and yet, all professed to draw their doctrines from the same book; and, Beulah, the end of my search was that I scorned all creeds and churches, and began to find a faith outside of a revelation which gave rise to so much narrow-minded bigotry—­so much pharisaism and delusion.  Those who call themselves ministers of the Christian religion should look well to their commissions, and beware how they go out into the world, unless the seal of Jesus be indeed upon their brows.  They offer themselves as the Pharos of the people, but ah! they sometimes wreck immortal souls by their unpardonable inconsistencies.  For the last two years I have been groping my way after some system upon which I could rest the little time I have to live.  Oh, I am heartsick and despairing!”

“What? already!  Take courage, Cornelia; there is truth somewhere,” answered Beulah, with kindling eyes.

“Where, where?  Ah! that echo mocks you, turn which way you will.  I sit like Raphael-Aben-Ezra—­at the ‘Bottom of the Abyss,’ but, unlike him, I am no Democritus to jest over my position.  I am too miserable to laugh, and my grim Emersonian fatalism gives me precious little comfort, though it is about the only thing that I do firmly believe in.”

She stooped to pick up her necklace, shook it in the glow of the fire until a shower of rainbow hues flashed out, and, holding it up, asked contemptuously: 

“What do you suppose this piece of extravagance cost?”

“I have no idea.”

“Why, fifteen hundred dollars—­that is all!  Oh, what is the blaze of diamonds to a soul like mine, shrouded in despairing darkness, and hovering upon the very confines of eternity, if there be any!” She threw the costly gift on the table and wearily closed her eyes.

“You have become discouraged too soon, Cornelia.  Your very anxiety to discover truth evinces its existence, for Nature always supplies the wants she creates!”

“You will tell me that this truth is to be found down in the depths of my own soul; for, no more than logic, has it ever been discovered ‘parceled and labeled.’  But how do I know that all truth is not merely subjective?  Ages ago, skepticism intrenched itself in an impregnable fortress:  ‘There is no criterion of truth.’  How do I know that my ‘true,’ ‘good,’ and ‘beautiful’ are absolutely so?  My reason is no infallible plummet to sound the sea of phenomena and touch noumena.  I tell you, Beulah, it is all—­”

A hasty rap at the door cut short this discussion, and, as Eugene entered, the cloud on Cornelia’s brow instantly lifted.  His gay Christmas greeting and sunny, handsome face diverted her mind, and, as her hand rested on his arm, her countenance evinced a degree of intense love such as Beulah had supposed her incapable of feeling.