"I will tell you what I thought," said the girl, encouraged by Aurelia's breathless admiration and Mr. Huntington's subdued interest. "It seemed to me that they were out of themselves,--that their strength to reveal their faults was supernatural. I never before heard people say, 'I am imperfect,--I do not lead as holy a life as I might,' and they were very full of pity. They spoke of doing more good to others." "Words only, not deeds." "My husband visits the poor," said Derrice, sturdily. "Well now, young lady, what do you think of me? I am not religious, I play cards all day on Sunday if I choose. I do not believe in what you call revealed religion. What is to become of me?" "It would be hard for me to believe anything against you," replied Derrice, with quiet grace. "But what will become of me when I die? Your preachers send me right down, down, down,--direct. What do you think about it?" Derrice silently appealed to Mr. Huntington, but he would not reply, though his kind smile urged her on. "Where am I going?" pursued Miss Gastonguay. "How can I tell?" "But you have your little narrow creed all made up. Saints this way, sinners that. I am no saint, yet I am not an out-and-out sinner." Derrice stirred uneasily in her seat, and earnestly longed for her husband. At last a solution of the difficulty occurred to her. "What kind of people do you like to be with in this world, Miss Gastonguay?" Her hostess looked around the table. The way of sinners, the seat of the scornful, had never been hers. These people about her board were all serious, thoughtful, and worthy of respect. "If you like good people," said Derrice, "then you will be with them in the world to come." "Child, you are too liberal, too generous for your creed. Morality does not save,--I have had that shrieked in my ears ever since I was born. You must have religion." "Perhaps you have it and do not know it." "What is religion, according to you?" "I know very little. I have not learned much yet. Is it not that one must have faith in the Bible, and believe in one God and in his Son?" "I do not believe in the inspiration of the Bible; it was written by men like ourselves." Derrice shrank back. "But would you be happy in heaven, then?" "But would I be happy!" muttered Miss Gastonguay, "and this is the girl I am to remember in my will," and she closed the conversation and abruptly turned to her niece, who had just come in, and was taking her place with an amused, cynical expression of countenance. CHAPTER XIV. UNQUIET HEARTS. Two hours later Justin returned. "You will find the company in the library, sir," said Prosperity, with dignity, as he helped him off with his coat.