respectable footman angrily, giving him the benefit of a strong nasal
intonation.

"Howard, why do you let such dirty beggars come near the carriage? What
are you paid for, I should like to know? It is perfectly disgraceful to
the house!"

"Very sorry, miss!" said the footman, gravely. "I didn't see the--the
person before." Then shutting the brougham door, he turned with a
dignified air to the unfortunate creature, who still lingered near,
and, with a sweeping gesture of his gold-embroidered coat-sleeve, said
majestically:

"Do you 'ear? Be hoff!"

Then, having thus performed his duty, he mounted the box beside his
friend the coachman, and the equipage rattled quickly away, its gleaming
lights soon lost in the smoke-laden vapours that drooped downward like
funeral hangings from the invisible sky to the scarcely visible ground.
Left to herself, the woman who had vainly sought charity from those in
whom no charity existed, looked up despairingly, as one distraught, and
seemed as though she would have given vent to some fierce exclamation,
when a feeble wail came pitifully forth from the sheltering folds of her
shawl. She restrained herself instantly, and walked on at a rapid pace,
scarcely heeding whither she went, till she reached the Catholic church
known as the "Oratory." Its unfinished facade loomed darkly out of the
fog; there was nothing picturesque or inviting about it, yet there were
people passing softly in and out, and through the swinging to and fro
of the red baize-covered doors there came a comforting warm glimmer of
light. The woman paused, hesitated, and then, having apparently made up
her mind, ascended the broad steps, looked in, and finally entered. The
place was strange to her; she knew nothing of its religious meaning,
and its cold, uncompleted appearance oppressed her. There were only some
half-dozen persons scattered about, like black specks, in its vast white
interior, and the fog hung heavily in the vaulted dome and dark little
chapels. One corner alone blazed with brilliancy and colour; this was
the altar of the Virgin. Toward it the tired vagrant made her way, and
on reaching it sank on the nearest chair as though exhausted. She did
not raise her eyes to the marble splendours of the shrine--one of the
masterpieces of old Italian art; she had been merely attracted to the
spot by the glitter of the lamps and candles, and took no thought as to
the reason of their being lighted, though she was