which the basses led the "Et resurrexit" was such that the other parts
could not choose but follow. She felt thankful to them; they dissipated
her painful personal reverie. Yes, the basses were the best part of the
choir; among them she recognised two of her father's oldest pupils; she
had known them as boys singing alto--beautiful voices they had been, and
were not less beautiful now. But if she desired to reform her life, how
was she to begin? She knew what the priest would tell her. He would say,
send away your lover; but to send him away in the plenitude of her
success would be odious. He was unhappy; he was ill; he needed her
sorely. His mother's health was a great anxiety to him, and if, on the
top of all, she were to announce that she intended leaving him, he would
break down altogether. She owed everything to him. No, not even for the
sake of her immortal soul would she do anything that would give him
pain. But he had been anxious to marry her for some time. Would she make
him a good wife? She was fond of him; she would do anything for him. She
had travelled hundreds of miles to see him when he was ill, and the
other night she could not sleep because she feared he was unhappy about
his mother's health. She would marry him if he asked her. On that point
she was certain. Refuse Owen? Not for anything that could be offered
her; nothing would change her from that. Nothing! Her resolve was taken.
No, it was not taken; it was there in her heart.

And at the moment when the Elevation bell rang she decided not only to
accept Owen if he asked her, but to use all her influence to induce him
to ask her. This seemed to her equivalent to a resolution to reform her
life, and, happier in mind, she bowed her head, and as a very unworthy
Catholic, but still a Catholic, and feeling no longer as an alien and an
outcast, she assisted at the mystery of the Mass. She even ventured to
offer up a vague prayer, and when the dread interval was over, she
remembered that her father had spoken to her of the second "Agnus Dei"
as an especially beautiful number. It was for five voices; exquisitely
prayerful it seemed to her. With devout insistence the theme is
reiterated by the two soprani, then the voices are woven together, and
the simile that rose up in her mind was the pious image of fingers
interlaced in prayer.

The first thrill, the first impression of the music over, she applied
herself to the dissection of it, so that she might be a