And especially, during these conferences, was she never tired of sketching the Don. But, as line after line of his character came out in bolder and bolder relief, more and more convinced became her cousin that it would be a fatal blunder on Mary’s part to unite her destiny with that of this man, whose convictions were as firm as they were objectionable. It was easy to see who would lead and who follow in such partnership. And at first he had joined the crusade against the erroneous tenets of the Don: lending books and suggesting arguments to Mary; but he soon gave up even the slender hopes he at first had of success, and from that day, to Alice’s great indignation, left no stone unturned to induce Mary to break with her lover. And his words had great weight with Mary. His strength was rapidly failing. The hectic flush on his wan cheeks and the unnatural lustre of his eyes showed but too plainly that he was not long for this world; and his hollow voice seemed to Mary, at times, almost a warning from the next. Between him and Alice it was an even battle; victory inclining first to one standard and then to the other. Just at the present juncture she is perched on Alice’s banner. For Mary has promised to let Hume and Voltaire take care of themselves for the future; and, since logic had failed, to trust to love. She slept well that night, and awoke next morning blithe and gay. Awoke singing rather than sighing. Her song was short. That evening her cousin came. She told him of her resolution. He seemed unusually ill that day; and whether from that cause (he coughed a good deal) or because he deemed it useless to remonstrate, he said little, and soon took his leave, giving her, as he bade her good-night, a look full of affectionate compassion. Two or three days after this, on Sunday, Mary took her seat in her mother’s pew, nestling in her accustomed corner. I hardly think she heard much of the service; and when the pastor gave out chapter and verse (of his sermon), his voice fell upon her outward ear merely. Her thoughts were far away. Ah, brother and sister Virginians, who can wonder that we stream to church so, on Sunday? What serener half-hour can there be than when the good man is talking to us? Have we not sat under his teaching for years? And doth not all the world allow him to be orthodox? Shall we watch him, then? Shall we weigh his words? _That_, being a safe man, _he_ will do. Let him talk! He will say the right thing, never fear! Trust him! Give him room! While we, free from the anxieties of business and the petty cares of home, sit there, peacefully dreaming, each one of us the dreams that each loves best!