erstand and manage them. The paths of
love and religion are at the fork of a road which every maiden travels.
If some young hand does not open the turnpike gate of the first, she is
pretty sure to try the other, which has no toll-bar. It is also very
commonly noticed that these two paths, after diverging awhile, run into
each other. True love leads many wandering souls into the better way.
Nor is it rare to see those who started in company for the gates of pearl
seated together on the banks that border the avenue to that other portal,
gathering the roses for which it is so famous.

It was with the most curious interest that the minister listened to the
various heresies into which her reflections had led her. Somehow or
other they did not sound so dangerous coming from her lips as when they
were uttered by the coarser people of the less rigorous denominations, or
preached in the sermons of heretical clergymen. He found it impossible
to think of her in connection with those denunciations of sinners for
which his discourses had been noted. Some of the sharp old church-members
began to complain that his exhortations were losing their pungency. The
truth was, he was preaching for Myrtle Hazard. He was getting bewitched
and driven beside himself by the intoxication of his relations with her.

All this time she was utterly unconscious of any charm that she was
exercising, or of being herself subject to any personal fascination. She
loved to read the books of ecstatic contemplation which he furnished her.
She loved to sing the languishing hymns which he selected for her. She
loved to listen to his devotional rhapsodies, hardly knowing sometimes
whether she were in the body, or out of the body, while he lifted her
upon the wings of his passion-kindled rhetoric. The time came when she
had learned to listen for his step, when her eyes glistened at meeting
him, when the words he uttered were treasured as from something more than
a common mortal, and the book he had touched was like a saintly relic.
It never suggested itself to her for an instant that this was anything
more than such a friendship as Mercy might have cultivated with
Great-Heart. She gave her confidence simply because she was very young
and innocent. The green tendrils of the growing vine must wind round
something.

The seasons had been changing their scenery while the events we have told
were occurring, and the loveliest days of autumn were now shining. T