sang from one book, with much reserve, yet with such
sweetly persuasive voices that those about them first listened and then
added their own very best. The second tune was "Geer," and, with John's
tenor going up every time Barbara's soprano came down, and _vice versa_,
it was as lovely see-sawing as ever thrilled the heart of youth with
pure and undefiled religion. They sang the last hymn to "Dennis." It
was,

"Blest be the tie that binds
Our hearts in Christian love!"

and they gratefully accepted the support of four good, sturdy, bass
voices behind them. But it was the words themselves, of the fourth and
fifth stanzas, that inspired their richest yet softest tones, while the
four basses behind them rather grew louder:

"When we asunder part
It gives us inward pain,
But we shall still be joined in heart
And hope to meet again.

"This glorious hope revives
Our courage by the way,
While each in expectation lives
And longs to see the day."

On the sidewalk the four basses again raised their four silk hats and
vanished. They were the commercial travelers.

As the two worshippers returned toward their hotel, Barbara spoke
glowingly of Mr. and Mrs. Fair; their perfect union; their beautiful
companionship. John, in turn, ventured to tell of the unbounded esteem
with which he had ever looked upon Barbara's mother. They dwelt, in
tones of indulgent amusement, on the day, the hour, the scene, of John's
first coming to the college, specially memorable to him as the occasion
of his first real meeting of the Rose of Rosemont. Barbara said the day
would always be bright to her as the one on which she first came into
personal contact with Judge March. John spoke ardently of his father.

"And, by the bye, that day was the first on which I ever truly saw you."

"Or Johanna!" said Barbara. "Johanna's keeping Fannie Ravenel's new
house. She's to stay with her till I get back." But John spoke again of
Barbara's mother, asking permission to do so.

"Yes, certainly," murmured his companion. "In general I don't revere
sacred things as I should," she continued, with her arm in her escort's,
and "Blest be the tie"--still dragging in their adagio footsteps; "but
my mother has all my life been so sacred to me--not that she was of the
sort that they call otherworldly--I don't care for otherworldliness
nearly as much as I should----"

"Don't you?" regretfully asked John; "that's one of my fau