Sorrow, like love, levels all distinctions, and melts all forms in its fiery furnace. In the midst of sickness and suffering, and every-day familiarity with death, there was small attention paid to customary proprieties. No one heeded whether Camillo were tended by Alice or her mother; but if Alice were long absent, he complained that she came so seldom. As his health improved, they talked together of the flowers they used to plant on the mossy rock, and the little boats they launched on the rippling brook. Sometimes, in their merriest moods, they mocked the laughing of the old green parrot, and the cooing of the fan-tailed doves. Thus walking through the green lanes of their childhood, they came unconsciously into the fairy-land of love! All was bright and golden there, and but one shadow rested on the sunshine. When Camillo spoke of the “little meeting-house in the garden,” and the image of “My donny,” she grew very thoughtful; and he said with a sigh, “I wish, dear Alice, that we were of one religion.” She smiled sweetly as she answered, “Are we not both of the religion of Jesus?” He kissed her hand, and said, “Your soul is always large and liberal, and noble and kind; but others are not like you, dear Alice.” And truly, when the war had ceased, and Camillo Campbell began to rebuild his demolished dwelling, and the young couple spoke of marriage, great was the consternation in both families. Even the liberal-minded Joseph was deeply-pained to have his daughter “marry out of Society,” as their phrase is; but he strove to console Rachel, who was far more afflicted than himself. “The young people love each other,” he said, “and it does not seem to be right to put any constraint on their affection. Camillo is a goodly youth; and I think the dreadful scenes he has lately witnessed have exercised his mind powerfully on the subject of war. I have observed that he is thoughtful and candid; and if he does but act up to his own light, it is all I ask of him. He promises never to interfere with the freedom of Alice; and as she has adopted most of our principles from her own conviction, I do not fear she will ever depart from them.” “Don’t comfort thyself with any such idea,” replied Rachel. “She will have pictures of the Virgin Mary in her house, and priests will come there to say over their mummery; and small beginnings make great endings. At all events, one thing is certain. Alice will lose her membership in our Society; and that it is which mainly grieves me. She is such a serious, sensible girl, that I always hoped to see her an esteemed minister among us.” “It is a disappointment to me also,” replied Joseph; “but we must bear it cheerfully. It certainly is better to have our child go out of the Society and keep her principles, than it would be to have her stay in Society and depart from her principles, as many do.”