"Is it? And if you were a Calmuck or a Mongol, it would teach you to reverence Shigemooni as the highest god; and bid you fall down and worship Dalai-lama, praying him to give you a pill of consecrated dough." "You mean that conscience is merely education? Even if it should be so--which is not true, I think--the Bible says 'the heathen are a law unto themselves,' and God knows they worship the best they can find until revelation shows them their error. But I do not live in Lassa, and my going to church here, is not akin to Lamaism. Nothing will happen to me, and I assure you, sir, I will come home as soon as the service is over." "Is your eternal salvation dependent on church going?" "I don't know, I rather think not; because if it were impossible for me to attend service the Lord would know it, and He only requires what He makes possible. But at least you must admit it cannot harm me; and I enjoy coming to this church more than any I have seen since I left our own dear old one at V----." "It is a small, very plain affair, in no respect comparable to St. Thomas's Church, where Mrs. Palma takes you every Sunday morning. Where you not there to-day?" "Yes, sir; but----" "But--what? Speak out." "Perhaps I ought not to say so,--and it may be partly my fault, but indeed there seems to me more real religion in this plain little chapel, at least it does me more good to come here." "For instance, it incites and helps you defy your guardian on the street!" Until now she had resolutely kept her face set churchward, but as he uttered the last words in a severer tone than he often used in conversation with her, she turned quite around and retraced her steps. Walking beside her, he could only see the long soft lashes of her downcast eyes, and the firm compression of her mouth. "Little girl, are you very angry?" She looked up quickly into his brilliant smiling eyes, and her cheek dimpled. "Mr. Palma, I wanted so very much to go, and I do feel disappointed; but not angry." "Then why do you not ask me to go with you?" "You go there? Is it possible that you would ever do such a thing? Really would you go, sir?" "Try me." "Please Mr. Palma, go with me." He raised his hat, bowed, and said: "I will." "Oh, thank you!" They turned and walked back in silence until they reached the door, and he asked: "Are the pews free?" "Yes, sir; but Mrs. Mason and I generally sit yonder by that column." "Very well, you must pilot me." She turned into the side aisle next the windows, and they seated themselves in a pew just beyond the projection of the choir gallery. The edifice was small, but the altar and pulpit were handsome, and though the windows were unstained, the light was mellowed by buff inside blinds. The seats were by no means filled, and the congregation was composed of people whose appearance denoted that many belonged to the labouring class, and none to the Brahmin caste of millionnaires, though all were neatly and genteely apparelled.