notes were the last of the "practice," and accompanied a reiterated "Amen" by children's voices. He passed through the gate into the porch, and, after a moment's hesitation, entered the church. A great longing for the peace of God had come over him, and here was God's house; it mattered not to him that the form of the worship therein was Catholic, not that to which he was accustomed, and he went in. There was no light in the church save the red gleam from the sacramental-lamp, swung by long silver chains before the High Altar; the gas-jets which had given light to the organist were turned out as he went into the church, and the children went down the gallery-stairs and trooped noisily away. A man lingered for a few minutes to arrange some chairs piled against the wall of a side aisle, and then departed, having left all in order for the evening service, to commence in an hour. Robert was quite alone: over the large window, high up in the wall, behind which the guests of the Community (for the church was attached to a monastery) were wont to sit and assist unseen at Divine worship, a crimson curtain hung; there was no human eye to witness the emotion of his soul. Robert sat long, absorbed in thought; then he drew near the altar-rail, and kneeled down upon the marble step. The red light shone solemnly upon his kneeling figure, and upon the paintings glowing on the sanctuary-walls. His eyes wandered over these, until they rested upon one, and then they stayed their wandering. It represented a Man of infinitely benign and sorrowful aspect, in whose figure there was great dignity and power. He stood with outstretched arms and piercing gaze directed out from the canvas, as though he looked into the faces of a multitude. A scroll ran round the top of the picture, and bore these words: "Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow." The light was very dim; he could not have read the written words by its glimmer had he needed to read them; but he did not. Kneeling there, on the altar-step, before the face and the words of promise, Robert took his wife's two letters from his breast, and, like Hezekiah in his trouble, he, in his repentance and his gratitude, "spread them before the Lord." It was late when Robert reached home, and Alice was anxiously expecting him. He was very cheerful, and listened with pleasure to the old woman's account of all that had been done during the day in the way of preparation for Katharine's reception. He had several matters of business to attend to; and so the hours wore themselves away; and at length he was the only one waking in the quiet house. "You'll go to bed soon, Master Robert," old Alice had said to him; "and you'll sleep well, I hope, for you'll not like to be looking ill when Mrs. Streightley comes; and you're not strong, you know. Promise me, now, that you'll not sit up."