glitter, fascinated the simple souls that had been erstwhile glad to dwell for a space on the contemplation of spiritual and heavenly things.  He saw that the matchless lesson of Christ’s love to humanity was scarcely heeded in the contemplation of how very much humanity was able to do for itself even without Christ’s love, provided it had money and the devil to ‘push’ it on!  He sighed a little;—­and certain words in the letter of his friend Bishop Brent came back to his memory—­“Many things seem to me hopeless,-utterly irremediable ...  I grow tired of my own puny efforts to lift the burden which is laid upon me.”  Then other, and stronger, thoughts came to him, and when the time arrived to read the Commandments, a rush of passion and vigorous intensity filled him with a force far greater than he knew.  Cicely Bourne said afterwards that she should never forget the thrill that ran through her like a shock of electricity, when he proclaimed from the altar:- -"God spake these words and said:  Thou shalt have none other gods but me!”

Looking up at this moment, she saw Julian Adderley in the aisle on her left-hand side,—­he too was staring at Walden as though he saw the figure of a saint in a vision.  But Maryllia kept her face hidden, listening in a kind of awe, as each ‘Commandment’ was, as it seemed, grandly and strenuously insisted upon by the clear voice that had no tone of hypocrisy in its whole scale.

“Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour!”

Lady Beaulyon forgot to droop her head in the usual studied way which she knew was so becoming to her,—­the not was so emphatic.  An unpleasant shiver ran through her daintily-clothed person,—­dear me!—­how often and often she had ‘borne false witness,’ not only against her neighbour, but against everyone she could think of or talk about!  Where could be the fun of living if you must not swear to as many lies about your neighbour as possible?  No spice or savour would be left in the delicate ragout of ‘swagger’ society!  The minister of St. Rest was really quite objectionable,—­a ranter,—­a noisy, ‘stagey’ creature!—­and both she and Mrs. Bludlip Courtenay murmured to each other that they ‘did not like him.’

“So loud!” said Lady Beaulyon, breathing the words delicately against her friend’s Titian-red hair.

“So provincial!” rejoined Mrs. Bludlip Courtenay, in the same dulcet undertone, adding to her remark the fervent—­“Lord have mercy upon us and incline our hearts to keep this law!”

One very gratifying circumstance to these ladies, however, and one that considerably astonished all the members of Miss Vancourt’s house-party, as well as Miss Vancourt herself, was that no ‘collection’ was made.  Neither the church, the poor, nor some distant mission to the heathen served as any excuse for begging, in the shrine of the ‘Saint’s Rest.’  No vestige of a money-box or ‘plate’ was to be seen anywhere.  And this fact pre-disposed