gard Mary, the Blessed Mother, as
a divine person; second, that they worship saints or their relics, and
many another fallacy under which you labor. You must be willing to read
and study, withdrawing your mind as much as possible from your
bereavement, and giving certain time to the care of your children. In
these matters you must be obedient, or I can promise no good result. Are
you still resolved?"

"It is my last hope," thought Juliet, disheartened for a moment, and she
bowed her head.

"You are sure you can help me," said Juliet, imploringly, as would say
one sick to the physician, in whom were placed all her hopes of life.

"And behold I am with you even to the consummation of the world" passed
through the priest's mind, and he answered, confidently: "Very sure,
Mrs. Temple."

The friends of Juliet marvelled greatly, when it became known to them
that she had sent for the Catholic priest, and was actually seeking to
learn the religion of her late husband. For they looked at the matter in
its true light, and smiled at her simplicity, in believing she could be
instructed in Protestantism by any "Romish priest," how good so ever he
might chance to be. Against her own inclination, but from the advice of
her new friend, she occasionally received her sisters and a few former
acquaintances. They went away commiserating her condition, as being
semi-imbecile, semi-lunatic.

"She will get over this, go in society, and marry again," they
prophesied. They were not the first false prophets who have arisen.

A year later, when Juliet Temple was baptized into the Catholic Church,
these same people said:

"_They_ will get her into a convent, next, where she will awaken to a
sense of her folly." Another false prophecy, for Juliet did not enter a
convent, though she had serious thoughts of doing so. Though she became
not a Sister of Charity, in fact, she did in deed, and atoned in after
years for the frivolousness of her early life, by patient self-denials
and well-directed benevolence.

In the matter of Juliet's conversion, Father Duffy, as in every thing
else, had done his work well. The widow of John Temple was no half-way
Christian. She had put forth her hand in the way directed, and God had
lifted her into the light. With her feet upon the rock of ages, she no
more trembled under the impression of sinking beneath slippery waters.

She was not ashamed to be seen by her former fashionable friends
wending her way to St.