But notwithstanding the stubbornness of the materialistic principles with which he had become imbued, his higher instincts were, unconsciously to himself, beginning to be aroused—­his memory involuntarily wandered back to the sweet, fresh days of his earliest manhood before the poison of Doubt had filtered through his soul—­his character, naturally of the lofty, imaginative, and ardent cast, re-asserted its native force over the blighting blow of blank Atheism which had for a time paralyzed its efforts—­and as he unwittingly yielded more and more to the mild persuasions of these genial influences, so the former Timon-like bitterness of his humor gradually softened.  There was no trace in him now of the dark, ironic, and reckless scorn that, before his recent visionary experience, had distinguished his whole manner and bearing—­the smile came more readily to his lips—­and he seemed content for the present to display the sunny side of his nature—­a nature impassioned, frank, generous, and noble, in spite of the taint of overweening, ambitions egotism which somewhat warped its true quality and narrowed the range of its sympathies.  In his then frame of mind, a curious, vague sense of half-pleasurable penitence was upon him,—­delicate, undefined, almost devotional suggestions stirred his thoughts with the refreshment that a cool wind brings to parched and drooping flowers,—­so that when Heliobas, taking up the silver “Esdras” reliquary and preparing to leave the apartment in response to the vesper summons, said gently, “Will you attend our service, Mr. Alwyn?” he assented at once, with a pleased alacrity which somewhat astonished himself as he remembered how, on the previous evening, he had despised and inwardly resented all forms of religious observance.

However, he did not stop to consider the reason of his altered mood, . . he followed the monks into chapel with an air of manly grace and quiet reverence that became him much better than the offensive and defensive demeanor he had erewhile chosen to assume in the same prayer-hallowed place,—­he listened to the impressive ceremonial from beginning to end without the least fatigue or impatience,—­and though when the brethren knelt, he could not humble himself so far as to kneel also, he still made a slight concession to appearances by sitting down and keeping his head in a bent posture—­“out of respect for the good intentions of these worthy men,” as he told himself, to silence the inner conflict of his own opposing and contradictory sensations.  The service concluded, he waited as before to see the monks pass out, and was smitten with a sudden surprise, compunction, and regret, when Heliobas, who walked last as usual, paused where he stood, and confronted him, saying: 

“I will bid you farewell here, my friend! ...  I have many things to do this evening, and it is best I should see you no more before your departure.”

“Why?” asked Alwyn astonished—­“I had hoped for another conversation with you.”