"The peace of God, which passeth all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God, and of His Son Jesus Christ our Lord; and the blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, be among you, and remain with you alway." And all hearts and lips present whispered "Amen!" and the organ and the choir broke forth in a grand "Gloria in excelsis." Standing there at the chancel, purified, consecrated henceforth unreservedly to Christ, Mr. Murray looked so happy, so noble, so worthy of his high calling, that his proud, fond mother thought his face was fit for an archangel's wings. Many persons who had known him in his boyhood, came up with tears in their eyes, and wrung his hand silently. At last Huldah pointed to the white pigeon, that was now beating its wings against the gilded pipes of the organ, and said, in that singularly sweet, solemn, hesitating tone, with which children approach sacred things: "Oh, Mr. Murray! when it fell on the pulpit, it nearly took my breath away, for I almost thought it was the Holy Ghost." Tears, which till then he had bravely kept back, dripped over his face, as he stooped and whispered to the little orphan: "Huldah, the Holy Spirit, the Comforter, came indeed; but it was not visible, it is here in my heart." The congregation dispersed. Mrs. Murray and the preacher and Huldah went to the carriage; and, leaning on Mr. Murray's arm, Mr. Hammond turned to follow, but observing that the church was empty, the former said: "After a little I will come." The old man walked on, and Mr. Murray went back and knelt, resting his head against the beautiful glittering balustrade, within which he hoped to officiate through the remaining years of his earthly career. Once the sexton, who was waiting to lock up the church, looked in, saw the man praying alone there at the altar, and softly stole away. When St. Elmo came out, the churchyard seemed deserted; but as he crossed it, going homeward, a woman rose from one of the tombstones and stood before him--the yellow-haired Jezebel, with sapphire eyes and soft, treacherous red lips, who had goaded him to madness and blasted the best years of his life. At sight of her he recoiled, as if a cobra had started up in his path. "St. Elmo, my beloved! in the name of other days stop and hear me. By the memory of our early love, I entreat you!" She came close to him, and the alabaster face was marvelously beautiful in its expression of penitential sweetness. "St. Elmo, can you never forgive me for the suffering I caused you in my giddy girlhood?" She took his hand and attempted to raise it to her lips; but shaking off her touch, he stepped back, and steadily they looked in each other's eyes. "Agnes, I forgive you. May God pardon your sins, as He has pardoned mine!" He turned away, but she seized his coat-sleeve and threw herself before him, standing with both hands clasping his arm.