ou--er--play the harmonium?" said the parson, with an attempt at
formal courtesy.

"I was for a year or two the organist in the choir of Dr. Todd's church
at Sacramento," returned Mr. Hamlin quietly.

The blank amazement on the faces of Deacons Stubbs and Turner and the
parson was followed by wreathed smiles from the other auditors and
especially from the ladies. Mr. Hamlin sat down to the instrument,
and in another moment took possession of it as it had never been held
before. He played from memory as he had implied, but it was the memory
of a musician. He began with one or two familiar anthems, in which they
all joined. A fragment of a mass and a Latin chant followed. An "Ave
Maria" from an opera was his first secular departure, but his delighted
audience did not detect it. Then he hurried them along in unfamiliar
language to "O mio Fernando" and "Spiritu gentil," which they fondly
imagined were hymns, until, with crowning audacity, after a few
preliminary chords of the "Miserere," he landed them broken-hearted in
the Trovatore's donjon tower with "Non te scordar de mi."

Amidst the applause he heard the preacher suavely explain that those
Popish masses were always in the Latin language, and rose from the
instrument satisfied with his experiment. Excusing himself as an invalid
from joining them in a light collation in the dining room, and begging
his hostess's permission to retire, he nevertheless lingered a few
moments by the door as the ladies filed out of the room, followed by
the gentlemen, until Deacon Turner, who was bringing up the rear, was
abreast of him. Here Mr. Hamlin became suddenly deeply interested in
a framed pencil drawing which hung on the wall. It was evidently a
schoolgirl's amateur portrait, done by Mrs. Rivers. Deacon Turner halted
quickly by his side as the others passed out--which was exactly what Mr.
Hamlin expected.

"Do you know the face?" said the deacon eagerly.

Thanks to the faithful Melinda, Mr. Hamlin did know it perfectly. It was
a pencil sketch of Mrs. Rivers's youthfully erring sister. But he only
said he thought he recognized a likeness to some one he had seen in
Sacramento.

The deacon's eye brightened. "Perhaps the same one--perhaps," he added
in a submissive and significant tone "a--er--painful story."

"Rather--to him," observed Hamlin quietly.

"How?--I--er--don't understand," said Deacon Turner.

"Well, the portrait looks like a lady I knew in Sacramento who had bee