ent like that of his friends. He was drawn
to the little class meeting, which seemed to him so simple a
confessional that all his former notions of "liberty, fraternity, and
equality" were satisfied by it. I believe he became a "probationer,"
but his creed was never quite settled enough for him to accept "full
membership."

Some of the old folks could not refrain from expressions of triumph
that "the Lord had got a hold of that French infidel": and old Sister
Goodenough seized his hand, and, with many sighs and much upturning of
the eyes, exhorted him: "Brother Markus, give up everything! give up
everything, and come out from the world and be separated!" Which led
D'Entremont to remark to Stevens, as they walked away, that "Madame
Goodenough was vare curus indeed!" And Brother Boreas, the exhorter,
who had the misfortune not to have a business reputation without
blemish, but who made up for it by rigid scruples in regard to a
melodeon in the church, and by a vicarious conscience which was kindly
kept at everybody's service but his own--old Brother Boreas always
remarked in regard to the marquis, that "as for his part he liked a
deeper repentance and a sounder conversion." But the gray-haired old
Scotch class leader, whose piety was at a premium everywhere, would
take D'Entremont's hand and talk of indifferent subjects while he
_beamed_ on him his affection and Christian fellowship.

To the marquis Priscilla was a perpetual marvel. More brilliant women
he had known in Paris, more devout women he had seen there, but a woman
so gifted and so devout, and, above all, a woman so true, so modest,
and of such perfect delicacy of feeling he had never known. And how
poorly these words describe her! For she was Priscilla; and all who
knew her will understand how much more that means than any adjectives
of mine. Certainly Henry Stevens did, for he had known her always, and
would have loved her always had he dared. It was only now, as she
interpreted him to the marquis and the marquis to him, idealizing and
elevating the thoughts of both, that he surrendered himself to hope.
And so, toward the close of the summer, affairs came to this awkward
posture that these two sworn friends loved the same woman.

D'Entremont discovered this first. More a man of the world than Henry
Stevens, he read the other's face and voice. He was perturbed. Had it
occurred two years before, he might have settled the matter easily by a
duel, for instance.