ot, proud Spanish blood of her mother, and, alas!
the same fatal, enchanting beauty also," he muttered. "If I could only
win her--" He stopped abruptly, as if fearful of being overheard, and
began to brush away some imaginary specks of dust from his sleeve.
Drooping his head into its usual pious attitude, his face assumed its
former grave expression, and he was again the sedate, quiet Brother.

CHAPTER II.

A Moravian settlement! As we enter it, it seems as if we stepped into
another sphere, so utterly unlike is it to the bustle and hurry of the
age of progress which prevails in the outer world that presses so
closely upon its borders, and against which it quietly but firmly
opposes the bulwarks of its ancient customs, the simplicity of its
regulations, and the severity of its discipline. It has no intercourse
with the tide of human life surging around it. It seems like a small
body of Christians, left from the Apostolic age, that after being
buried for centuries has been dug out in later days. The government of
the community resembles that of a large family bound together by ties
of love; all its members are brothers and sisters, divided, according
to age, sex, and conditions of life, into bands called choruses, at the
head of each an elder, either male or female, presiding and
superintending its spiritual affairs and enforcing its daily
discipline. Each elder gives in a report of all that occurs in the
chorus to the Conference, as this is the chief board of management in
the society. There is, therefore, nothing which transpires in the life
of any individual that is not brought before this tribunal.

About ten o'clock one morning, an elegant carriage, drawn by two
spirited horses, passed through the quiet, scrupulously clean streets
of the settlement, and drew up at the door of the hotel, or, as they
call it, the general lodging-house; and from the vehicle sprang a young
and very distinguished-looking gentleman with erect, military bearing
and noble features. He was followed by a lady, and a young girl of
about twelve years of age, and a tall, lanky lad who had not yet lost
his boyish awkwardness.

"Unharness and take the trunk to the Sisters' house," said the
gentleman to the coachman.

The newly-arrived guests entered the sitting-room, which was entirely
unoccupied, and whose clean, freshly-sanded floor seemed almost to
shine with a consciousness of its own spotlessness. The host, a quiet
old m