the parasitical plant has triumphed, and stifled the sterner
growth. In other words, Christianity has conquered Judaism.

"I suppose I may soon expect a visit from Mr. Bainrothe," I said one day
to Mrs. Clayton. "I think my birthday approaches; can you tell me the
day of the month? I know that of the week from remembering the Sabbath
chimes."

I thought she started slightly at this announcement, but she replied,
unflinchingly:

"The 5th, yes, I am quite sure it is the 5th of the month."

"Do you never see a newspaper, Mrs. Clayton, and, if so, can you not
indulge me with a glimpse of one? I think it would do me good--remind me
that I was alive, I have seen none since the account of Miss Lamarque's
safety, for which God be praised."[5]

"No, Miss Monfort, it is simply impossible. I should be transgressing
the rules of the establishment."

"Dr. Englehart's, I suppose, as if indeed there were such a person," I
said, impetuously--unguardedly.

"Do you pretend to doubt it?" she asked, slowly, setting her greedy eyes
upon my face, and dropping her darning-work and shell upon her knee.
Why, what possesses you to-day, Miss Miriam?"

"I shall answer no questions, Mrs. Clayton--this right, at least, I
reserve--but, the fact is, I doubt every thing lately, except this
child and God. I do not believe my Creator will forsake me utterly--I
shall not, till the end." And tears rolled down my face, the first I had
shed for days. I had been petrified, of late, by the resolution I was
making, and the effort of mind it had cost me. I had felt, until now,
that I was hardening into atone.

"You desire to see Mr. Bainrothe, I suppose," she remarked, after a long
silence, daring which she had again betaken herself to her occupation,
without lifting her eyes as she asked the question.

"I desire to look my fate in the face at once, and understand his
conditions," I replied, sullenly.

"But what if he is not here--what if Dr. Englehart--" lifting her eyes
to mine.

"I cannot be mistaken," I interrupted, with impetuosity, "I have heard
his step; he eats in the room below; I am convinced, for I know of old
that bronchial cough of his--the effect of gormandism--"

Then suddenly, Ernie, looking up, made a revelation, irrelevant, yet to
my ear terrible and astounding, but fortunately incomprehensible to my
companion. What did that little vigilant creature ever fail to remark?

"Mirry make tea," he said, or seemed to say, and my face