fane;
and, feeling that he had the power of buying up a district in forlorn
Westminster, and raising there a temple to the living God, which might
influence the future welfare of millions, and even effect the salvation
of his country, he began to ask himself whether he could incur the
responsibility of shrinking from the fulfilment of this great duty.

Lothair could not have a better adviser on the subject of the influence
of architecture on religion than Monsignore Catesby. Monsignore Catesby
had been a pupil of Pugin; his knowledge of ecclesiastical architecture
was only equalled by his exquisite taste. To hear him expound the
mysteries of symbolical art, and expatiate on the hidden revelations
of its beauteous forms, reached even to ecstasy. Lothair hung upon his
accents like a neophyte. Conferences with Father Coleman on those points
of faith on which they did not differ, followed up by desultory remarks
on those points of faith on which they ought not to differ--critical
discussions with Monsignore Catesby on cathedrals, their forms, their
purposes, and the instances in several countries in which those forms
were most perfect and those purposes best secured--occupied a good deal
of time; and yet these engaging pursuits were secondary in real emotion
to his frequent conversations with Miss Arundel in whose society every
day he took a strange and deeper interest.

She did not extend to him that ready sympathy which was supplied by
the two priests. On the contrary, when he was apt to indulge in those
speculations which they always encouraged, and rewarded by adroit
applause, she was often silent, throwing on him only the scrutiny
of those violet yes, whose glance was rather fascinating than apt to
captivate. And yet he was irresistibly drawn to her, and, once recalling
the portrait in the gallery, he ventured to murmur that they were
kinsfolk.

"Oh! I have no kin, no country," said Miss Arundel. "These are not times
for kin and country. I have given up all these things for my Master!"

"But are our times so trying as that?" inquired Lothair.

"They are times for new crusades," said Miss Arundel, with energy,
"though it may be of a different character from the old. If I were a
man, I would draw my sword for Christ. There are as great deeds to
be done as the siege of Ascalon, or even as the freeing of the Holy
Sepulchre."

In the midst of a profound discussion with Father Coleman on Mariolatry,
Lothair, rapt in