knew nothing at all about the subject, except what she had gathered from listening to conversation, one book seemed to her as good as another, provided it dealt with the matter that interested her; but when Hazard came in and found her seated on a sofa, with a pile of these works about her, his hair rose on end, and he was forced gently to take them away under the promise of bringing her others of a more correct kind.  These in their turn seemed to her not quite clear, and she asked for others still.  He found himself, without warning, on the brink of a theological abyss.  Unwilling to worry him; eager to accept whatever he told her he believed, but in despair at each failure to understand what it was, Esther became more and more uncomfortable and terrified.

“What would you do, Catherine, if you were in my place?” she asked.

“Let it alone!” said Catherine.  “You didn’t ask him to marry you.  If he wants you, it’s his business to suit himself to you.”

“But I must go to his church,” said Esther, “and sit at his communion.”

“How many people at his church could tell you what they believe?” asked Catherine.  “Your religion is just as good as theirs as long as you don’t know what it is.”

“One learns theology fast when one is engaged to be married,” said Esther with a repentant face.

She was already sorry that she had tried to learn any thing about the subject, for she already knew too much, and yet a terrible fascination impelled her to read on about the nature of the trinity and the authority of tradition, until she lost patience with her own stupidity and burned to know what other people had to say on such matters.  It occurred to her that she should like to have a quiet talk with George Strong.

Meanwhile Mrs. Murray, panic-stricken at learning the engagement, had sent at once for George.  The messenger reached him on Sunday evening, a few hours after Esther told her aunt.  Mystified by the urgent tone of Mrs. Murray’s note, Strong came up at once, and found his uncle and aunt alone, after dinner, in their parlor, where Mr. Murray was quietly smoking a cigar, while his wife was holding a book in her hand and looking hard into the fire.

“George!” said his aunt solemnly; “do you know the mischief you and your friends have done?”

Strong stared.  “You don’t mean to tell me that Catherine has run off with Wharton?” said he.  “She can’t have done it, for I left Wharton not fifteen minutes ago at the club.”

“No, not that! thank Heaven!  Though if she hadn’t more head than ever he had, that French wife of his might have given her more unhappiness than he is worth.  No, it’s not that!  Catherine is the only sensible creature in the family.”

Strong glared into the fire for a moment with a troubled air, and then looked at his aunt again.  “No!” said he.  “Esther hasn’t joined the church.  It can’t be!”

“Yes!” said Mrs. Murray grimly.