"Ah! a good many people think there is something mysterious in the air of a church," said Mr. Lindsay. "However take your own course; there is something truly pious in a bad cold caught in a damp pew--it sends people now and then to Heaven before their time, I grant you." "Ah, doctor, if people did not know you, they would not think you so good as you are. Now mind what you are about to mamma." Mrs. Fitzpatrick was now quite composed, even cheerful. She shook hands with Mr. Lindsay; "begged him to take some luncheon at their early dinner," and summoned Mr. Haveloc from the garden. "Aveline is your charge you know," said Mrs. Fitzpatrick, "I do not even venture to carve for her." "What shall it be, Miss Fitzpatrick?" said Mr. Haveloc, drawing his chair to the table. "Sweetbread, I think," said Aveline, looking round, "and mushrooms." "No mushrooms;" said Mr. Lindsay. "I will!" said Aveline. Mr. Haveloc put them on her plate. "What do you always shake your head for, doctor, when you look at him?" asked Aveline, laughing; "has he so much the appearance of a bad subject?" "I shook my head at the mushrooms," said Mr. Lindsay. "You see, doctor, her spirits are very good," said Mrs. Fitzpatrick, in a low voice. "I see," he replied, with a nod. But it was evident he saw no comfort in it. * * * * * Every one knows the stillness that seems to settle over town and country on the Sunday in England. Even in the most retired spot, everything is more silent and quiet than before. No sound of waggons in the neighbouring lanes; no rural noise of labourers going forth to their daily toil. And when the scenery chances to be beautiful, the day warm and fine, and this delicious quiet diffused around, only broken by the distant and uncertain sound of the church bells; there are few persons who would be tempted to exchange this refreshing pause from labour; this purifying rest to the mind, for the gaudy revelry of a continental Sabbath day. Mrs. Fitzpatrick pointed out this stillness to Mr. Haveloc, when he met her in front of her cottage the next morning. "It always brings to my mind those words of the Psalmist," she said, "'Be still, and know that I am God!' As if this complete and solemn repose were necessary to the mind, before contemplating the majesty of the Divine nature." "Does Miss Fitzpatrick still hold to her intention?" he asked. "She does; unless you can persuade her out of it." "I feel very uneasy at the idea of her going. I saw plainly that Mr. Lindsay did not like it."