Mr. Southard did full justice to their learning, their sagacity, and their zeal. He told with a sort of shrinking admiration how men possessed of tastes and accomplishments which fitted them to shine in the most cultivated society, buried themselves in distant and heathen lands, far removed from all human sympathy, hardened their scholarly hands with toil, encountered danger, suffered death--for what? That their society might prosper! The subject seemed to have for the speaker a painful fascination. He lingered while describing the unparalleled devotion, the pernicious enthusiasm of these men. He acknowledged that they proclaimed the name of Christ where it had never been heard before; he lamented that ministers of the gospel had not emulated their heroism; but there the picture was over-clouded, was vailed in blackness. It needed so much brightness in order that the darkness which followed might have its full effect. We all know what pigments are used in that Plutonian shading--mental reservation, probableism, and the doctrine that the end justifies the means; the latter a fiction, the two former scrupulously misrepresented. Here Mr. Southard was at home. Here he could denounce with fiery indignation, point with lofty scorn. The close of the lecture left the characters of the Jesuits as black as their robes. They had been lifter only to be cast down. Miss Hamilton walked home with Mr. Granger, scarcely uttering a word the whole way. "You do not speak of the lecture," he said when they were at the house steps. "Has it terrified you so much that you dare not? Shall you start up from sleep to-night fancying that a great black Jesuit has come to carry you off?" "Do you know, Mr. Granger," she said slowly, "those men seem to me very much like the apostles; in their devotion, I mean? I would like to read about them. They are interesting." "Oh! they have, doubtless, books which will tell you all you want to know," he replied. "_They!_" repeated Margaret. "But I want to know the truth." Mr. Granger laughed. "Then I advise you to read nothing, and hear nothing." "How then shall I learn?" demanded Miss Hamilton with a touch of impatience. "Descend into the depth of your consciousness, as the German did when he wanted to make a correct drawing of an elephant." "No," she replied remembering the story, "I will imitate the Frenchman; I will go to the elephant's country, and draw from life." "That is not difficult," Mr. Granger said, amused at the idea of Miss Hamilton studying the Jesuits. "These elephants have jungles the world over. In this city you may find one on Endicott street, another on Suffolk street, and a third on Harrison avenue." They were just entering the house. Margaret hesitated, and paused in the entry. "You do not think this a foolish curiosity?" she asked wistfully. "You see no harm in my wishing to know something more about them?"