“Ah, what a noble critter that Bridget O’Clery was!” said Calvin, changing the subject to her whose image stood uppermost in his mind, “What a pity,” he continued, “that she should ever become a nun!  Do nuns ever get married, Murty?”

“Don’t you know so much yet, Calvin?  Certainly, they never do get married.  They vow to consecrate their hearts forever to God.  In fact, they anticipate, here in this life, what all the blessed do in the next life—­to live in God, and for God.  I think the life of a holy nun,” said Murty, kindling into enthusiasm, “is superior to that of an angel, and the merit far greater.”

Here it is as well to state that Calvin Prying, of late years, lost all that zeal for stiff Presbyterianism that possessed him in his younger days,—­an ordinary occurrence with American Protestant young men,—­and that, instead of his former zeal, he now had the utmost indifference, if not contempt, for the teachers of the hard creed of his cruel namesake of Geneva.  He had a heart, too; and though a phlegmatic and a rude one, it could not remain insensible to the chaste charms and virtuous beauty of Bridget O’Clery.  For years this feeling was growing on him—­the exhortations, and lectures, and advices of little Parson Gulmore to the contrary notwithstanding.  In a word, though she was “Irish” and a pauper, in the slang of parsons and officials, and though the vulgar little dominie was continually ridiculing the Irish and the Catholics, Calvin saw that Bridget was beautiful in countenance, and light as a humming bird in heart—­circumstances which insensibly made an impression on the rude material of which his own was made, creating there a feeling of love bordering on admiration and distant esteem.  No sooner, however, did it reach his ears that the money was restored to the orphans, and he was told that Bridget was likely to have a portion of some thousands of dollars, than his former esteem and admiration, as if by magic art, was turned into love.  And now, who dare say word against her? and how low, contemptible, and wicked the counsels of Parson Gulmore, who attempted to prejudice him against such a treasure, such a model of every virtue, such an angel, as she “always appeared to him to be”!  He would have cheerfully “accepted the hand” of the poor “Irish” orphan when that hand had some thousands of gold dollars in its beauteous grasp.  The Yankee is not remarkable for having an eye for the beautiful in nature or art; but when dimes and dollars are in prospective, none is more penetrating or sharpsighted than he.  Beautiful paintings, cathedrals, the noblest creations of the chisel, the most enchanting landscapes have just as much attraction for his genius as they can be made available “for making money,” and no more.  It was from the same principle that Calvin Prying’s love for Bridget O’Clery originated.  Hence he was highly enraged at the idea of her going into a convent, and had a strong notion in his head to call a “public mass meeting,”