In the evening the young lady was sufficiently recovered to join the little party in the drawing-room, which consisted, as before, of Mr. Falconer, Mr. Gryll, Doctor Anodyne, and the Reverend Doctor Opimian. Miss Gryll was introduced to _Mr. Falconer._ She was full of grateful encomium for the kind attention of the sisters, and expressed an earnest desire to hear their music. The wish was readily complied with. She heard them with great pleasure, and, though not yet equal to much exertion, she could not yet refrain from joining in with them in their hymn to Saint Catharine. She accompanied them when they retired. _The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ I presume those Latin words are genuine old monastic verses: they have all the air of it. _Mr. Falconer._ They are so, and they are adapted to old music. Dr. Anodyne. There is something in this hymn very solemn and impressive. In an age like ours, in which music and pictures are the predominant tastes, I do not wonder that the forms of the old Catholic worship are received with increasing favour. There is a sort of adhesion to the old religion, which results less from faith than from a certain feeling of poetry; it finds its disciples; but it is of modern growth; and has very essential differences from what it outwardly resembles. _The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ It is, as I have frequently had occasion to remark, and as my young friend here will readily admit, one of the many forms of the love of ideal beauty, which, without being in itself religion, exerts on vivid imaginations an influence that is very often like it. _Mr. Falconer._ An orthodox English Churchman was the poet who sang to the Virgin: 'Thy image fells to earth. Yet some, I ween, Not unforgiven the suppliant knee might bend, As to a visible Power, in which did blend All that was mixed and reconciled in thee, Of mother's love with maiden purity, Of high with low, celestial with terrene.'{1} 1 Wordsworth: Ecclesiastical Sonnets, i 21. _The Rev. Dr. Opimian._--Well, my young friend, the love of ideal beauty has exercised none but a benignant influence on you, whatever degree of orthodoxy there may be in your view of it. The little party separated for the night. CHAPTER XII THE FOREST DELL--THE POWER OF LOVE--THE LOTTERY OF MARRIAGE (Greek passage) Philetaerus: Cynagis. I pray you, what can mortal man do better Than live his daily life as pleasantly As daily means avail him? Life's frail tenure Warns not to trust to-morrow.