At half-past eight, all her domestic affairs in order, May and Helen prepared to attend the 9 o’clock mass at the cathedral.  Helen’s worldly heart was pleased with the grandeur of the building, the dignity with which the ceremonies were conducted, and the appearance of the congregation, who appeared to belong to a better class than she had been accustomed to see in the Catholic churches North.  And so they did.  They were mostly individuals of fortune and leisure, who had their time in command.  And there were those whose age and infirmities would not permit them to come out at an earlier hour; feeling thankful to know that He, the wonderful and humble Jesus, would be there to receive their homage, and dispense His blessings to their waiting hearts.  Her old feelings would have triumphed, had she attended the earlier masses, when the artisan, the toil-worn, the laborer, with his habiliments covered with the moil and toil of earth; the tattered poor, who were ashamed to come out into the full light of day; the halt, the cripple, and the blind, led by little ones; the widow and orphan, the bereaved, who seek to hide their anguish from all eyes but His who can heal it; the dark children of Ethiopia, the slave, the outcast, had congregated there; all equal in HIS eyes, as they will be in the valley of Jehosaphat when the judgment is, to receive the divine manna and the vital heavenliness which His presence afforded; when, like pilgrims refreshed by pure water in the desert, they went forth to encounter again the heat, the simoon, the thirst and weariness of the way, but with renewed courage.

“Shall we go in to see Father Fabian a moment?” said May, after mass.

“No, not now, May.  I think, perhaps I shall go to confession soon; and I do not wish to know him, or be known to him,” she replied, shrinking back.

“Let it be soon, very soon, dearest Helen!” said May, pressing her hand.

“Perhaps,” she answered, vaguely.

“Now, dear Helen, can you find your way back?  I have to go a little way on business,” said May, when they came within two squares of home.

“Oh, yes; but really, you seem to have a great many mysterious visits on hand!” observed Helen, rather sharply.

“You shall come with me soon, if you wish to;” replied May.  Then they separated; Helen dissatisfied, and a little angry, and May rejoicing like a miser who goes to visit his treasure.  Full of happy thoughts, she went on until she came to old Mabel’s cottage, at the door of which stood a small, close carriage.  The door was ajar, and she went in.  There were two ladies in silks, velvets, and plumes, standing before Aunt Mabel, and both were speaking in an excited tone.

“A Roman Catholic!” they exclaimed.

“Yes, misses,” was the meek reply.

“Why, don’t you know you peril your eternal salvation, by becoming a papist?”

“No, misses, I don’t know it, neither does you.  I been living on and on, and never was a professor, and I’m gwine to do jest what is right at the ’leventh hour.  It’s a ’ligion that’s older than all, and was know’d and practised afore any of yourn was ever thought on.”