The priest who said this Mass was not young; he was remarkably tall, his shoulders contracted from the reading habit; his hair grey; his eyes deep-set and glowing with singular light; his nose large and handsome; his mouth finely cut, somewhat sad, yet ready to smile, as Cis found out when he turned to his people and began to speak after the reading of the Gospel. A remarkable man, whom Cis began to watch intently, feeling at once attracted and repulsed by him, as if she sensed in him the implanted power of the Holy Ghost which all who knew Father Morley said was his gift, the power that reads souls and irresistibly draws them. Once Cis was sure that the priest’s eyes met her own, full and steadily; that he knew her for a stranger, and measured her. She liked him, yet she feared him; coming out of the church slowly, borne by the pressure of the immense throng into the outer air, she was conscious of relief, and was glad that it “was not her way to know the priest; that one was----” Someone touched her arm, a tall, thin, stern looking woman, with clear, kindly eyes, at whom Cis looked questioningly, her formulation of Father Morley suspended. “Are you Miss Adair, I wonder?” asked the woman. “Yes; Cicely Adair,” replied Cis. “I saw you were a stranger. Taking your hair, and all together, I thought you must be the girl Mr. Moore talked to me about taking. I’m Miss Gallatin, Hannah Gallatin. Come home with me; I’m going to get you a good boarding place, but not in my house. Fasting?” said Miss Gallatin, speaking with a sort of crisp rapidity. “No; I had breakfast at the hotel as soon as the doors were opened,” said Cis. “Mr. Moore said you didn’t want me, because he knew me, or words to that effect.” “Neither do I, though I see he judged you right; G. Rodney always struck me as a man who could judge a woman accurately,” said Miss Gallatin. “Didn’t suppose you’d turn out to be a Catholic. Convert, like myself?” “No,” said Cis. “I was born one; I’m several kinds of races, all Catholic, except my mother, and she had English blood; half of her blood was English Protestant. But none of my people came from their old countries lately; they were all great or still greater grandparents who came over here, so I’m quite thoroughly American, as things go. Goodness, I don’t care a rap about such things! I’m here, Cis Adair, and what do I care!” “Verse?” asked Miss Gallatin. “No; worse! Just a fluke; it does rhyme, doesn’t it?” laughed Cis. “Rod said you wanted to steer me to a house you knew about, though you wouldn’t have me in yours. Kind of you, Miss Gallatin--at least half of it is!” “It surely is, and it’s the half you don’t mean!” agreed Miss Gallatin. “I’ve had no breakfast. Come with me, and after I’ve seen to my household, and eaten, I’ll take you to Mrs. Wallace. Mr. Moore never gets up till noon, Sundays; you won’t see him. You call him Rod; known him long?”