“Father McCafferty, it makes no difference to me what these people believe, if they only have a religion that will save their souls, and keep them from vice and sin.” “That is what their religion is for,” said the priest, warmly. “I have no means to work with.” “Do you want a church?” “I do, badly.” “You shall have one. What will it cost?” “Six thousand dollars,” replied the astonished priest. “Build your church, and I will pay all the bills.” “God bless your honor.” Father McCafferty was a true Catholic, but none the less a true Christian. If he placed more stress on mere forms than those of a different faith, it was because he believed they were vital. Eugene thought that any Christian faith would save a man from sin, if it was earnestly believed and faithfully followed. It made no difference to him what other men’s theological opinions were, if the holders of them were only earnest and faithful. So the Catholic Church was built, and Father McCafferty was a happy man, and joined Eugene in good works, while he refused even to utter the Lord’s Prayer in worship with him. The _millionnaire_ went a step farther. The priest, at his suggestion, imported half a dozen Sisters of Charity into Poppleton, and Eugene filled up the exchequer from which these self-sacrificing ladies drew for the needy ones. Under the tuition of the good father and the benevolent sisters, the people of the Catholic parish struck a terrible blow at the demons of filth, rags, and bad whiskey. But yet, with all that had been done, paradise and Poppleton were still leagues apart. Thus passed away the summer and the autumn, till the first Tuesday in November, the day appointed for the trial of Ross Kingman. As Julia insisted upon being the companion of Mary, the carriage was ordered for them, and Eugene and Dr. Bilks occupied the front seat. On their arrival, the vehicle was left at the hotel, and the ladies, attended by Eugene, walked over to the jail to see Ross, where an awkward meeting took place, for Dick Birch was there, preparing himself for the trial. Dick blushed up to his eyes; so did Julia. A friendly greeting followed, and she retreated as soon as possible. “Dick, I am glad to see you again,” said Eugene, as he grasped the offered hand. “Equally glad am I,” replied Dick. “Where have you been these four months?” “At work. I have written to you half a dozen times.” “You have; but you didn’t say anything in your letters.” “I thought it was best to let old matters slumber for a while. I have been as busy as a bee. But you must excuse me now, for I have two or three points to settle before the trial comes on.”