"Do they? I cannot tell. Sometimes I think He can hardly reckon it so. The God they worship seems to be no jealous God, but one that hath no law to be broken, no power to be dreaded, no majesty to be revered. `If I be a Master,' said the Holy One by Malachi the Prophet, `where is My fear?' And our Lord spake to the Sadducees, saying, `Do ye not therefore err, because ye know not the Scriptures, neither the power of God?' They seem to be strangely fearless of breaking His most solemn commands--even the words that He spake to Moses in the sight of all Israel, on the mount that burned with fire. Strangely fearless! when the Master spake expressly against making the commands of God of no effect through man's tradition. What do they think He meant? Let them spill a drop of consecrated wine--which He never told them to be careful over--and they are terrified of His anger: let them deliberately break His distinct laws, and they are not terrified at all. The world has gone very, very far from God." They sat for a little while in silence. "Mother," said Rudolph at last, "who do you think that man was whom I met, that looked so hard at me, and seemed to think me like my parents? He spoke of `Ermine,' too." "I can only guess, Rudolph. I think it might be a son of Mother Isel-- she had two. The Ermine of whom he spoke, no doubt, is some girl named after thine aunt. Perhaps it may be a child of their sister Flemild. I cannot say." "You think it could not be my aunt, Mother? I should like to know one of my own kin." "Not possible, my boy. She must have died with the rest." "Are you sure they all died, Mother?" "I cannot say that I saw it, Rudolph: though I did see the dead faces of several, when I was searching for thee. But I do not see how she could possibly have escaped." "Might she not--if she had escaped--say the same of me?" Countess seemed scarcely willing to admit even so much as this. "It is time for sleep, my son," she said; and Rudolph rose, lighted the lantern, and followed her upstairs. The chamber above was divided in two by a curtain drawn across it. As Rudolph was about to pass beyond it, he stopped to ask another question. "Mother, if I should meet that man again,--suppose he were to speak to me?" A disquieted look came into the dark eyes. "Bring him to me," she said. "Allow nothing--deny nothing. Leave me to deal with him." Rudolph dropped the curtain behind him, and silence fell upon the little house in Mark Lane. A few hours earlier, our old friend Stephen, now a middle-aged man, had come home from his daily calling, to his house in Ivy Lane. He was instantly surrounded by his five boys and girls, their ages between six and thirteen, all of whom welcomed him with tumultuous joyfulness. "Father, I've construed a whole book of Virgil!" "And, Father, I'm to begin Caesar next week!" "I've made a gavache for you, Father--done every stitch myself!" "Father, I've learnt how to make pancakes!"