t of the deep have I cried unto
Thee, O Lord----," and then there was a general prayer, in which the
voices of the congregation joined. Some more singing and praying took
place, before the sound of a sudden rush and movement announced the
conclusion of the service.

"We had better go," said Miss Du Prel.

They had no more than time to leave the porch, before the doors burst
open, and the people streamed forth. A whiff of evil-smelling air issued
from the building, at the same time. The dog was howling more piteously
than ever. Someone complained of the disturbance that had been caused by
the creature's cries, during worship. The congregation continued to pour
out, dividing into little groups to discuss the sermon or something of
more mundane interest. An appearance of superhuman respectability
pervaded the whole body. The important people, some of whom had their
carriages waiting to drive them home, lingered a few moments, to
exchange greetings, and to discuss sporting prospects or achievements.
Meanwhile, one of the creatures over whom God had given them dominion,
was wailing in vain appeal.

"I can't stand this," cried the Professor, and he started off.

"I will come too," Hadria announced. Miss Du Prel said that she could
not endure the sight of suffering, and would await their return.

And then occurred the incident that made this afternoon memorable to
Hadria. In her last letter to her sister, she had said that she could
not imagine the Professor contemptuous or angry. She had reason now to
change her mind. His face was at once scornful and sad. For a moment,
Hadria thought that he was displeased with her.

"I sometimes feel," he said, with a scornful bitterness that she had not
suspected in him, "I sometimes feel that this precious humanity of ours
that we are eternally worshipping and exalting, is but a mean, miserable
thing, after all, not worth a moment's care or effort. One's sympathy is
wasted. Look at these good people whining to their heavenly Father about
their own hurts, craving for a pity of which they have not a spark
themselves!--puffed up with their little lordship over the poor beasts
that they do not hesitate to tear, and hurt, and torture, for their own
pleasure, or their own benefit,--to whom they, in their turn, love to
play the God. Cowards! And having used their Godhead for purposes of
cruelty, they fling themselves howling on their knees before their
Almighty Deity and beg for mercy, whi