l and physical torment at the skilful, yet
relentless hands of Dr. Knott, in the bedchamber near by--Katherine's
anguish and revolt found expression in restless pacings, and those
pacings brought her to the chapel door. It stood ajar. Before the altar
the three hanging lamps showed each its tongue of crimson flame. A
whiteness of flowers, set in golden vases upon the re-table, was just
distinguishable. But the delicately carved spires and canopies of
stalls, the fair pictured saints, and figure of the risen Christ--His
wounded feet shining like pearls upon the azure floor of heaven--in the
east window, were lost in soft, thick, all-pervading gloom. The place
was curiously still, as though waiting silently, in solemn and strained
expectation for the accomplishment of some mysterious visitation. And,
all the while without, the gale flung itself wailing against the angles
of the masonry, and the rain beat upon the glass of the high, narrow
windows as with a passion of despairing tears.

For some time Katherine waited in the doorway, a sombre figure in her
trailing, velvet dress. The hushed stillness of the chapel, the
confusion and clamour of the tempest, taken thus in connection, were
very telling. They exercised a strong influence over her already
somewhat exalted imagination. Could it be, she asked herself, that
these typified the rest of the religious, and the unrest of the secular
life? Julius March would interpret the contrast they afforded in some
such manner no doubt. And what if Julius, after all, were right? What
if, shutting God out of the heart, you also shut that heart out from
all peaceful dwelling-places, leaving it homeless, at the mercy of
every passing storm? Katherine was bruised in spirit. The longing for
some sure refuge, some abiding city was dominant in her. The needs of
her soul, so long ignored and repudiated, asserted themselves. Yes,
what if Julius were right, and if content and happiness--the only
happiness which has in it the grace of continuance--consisted in
submission to, and glad acquiescence in, the will of God?

Thus did she muse, gazing questioningly at the whiteness of the altar
flowers and those steady tongues of flame, hearing the silence, as of
reverent waiting, which dwelt in the place. But, on the other hand, to
give, in this her hour of weakness, that which she had refused in the
hours of clear-seeing strength;--to let go, because she was alone and
the unloveliness of age claimed