eet, all praying the same prayer in many tongues. She could not
hear it clearly, but the sound of their murmurs and sighs was like the
whisper of the fir-wood when the wind walks through it.

She was bewildered and frightened. Part of going to church means
having people that you know near you. Her heart fluttered with a vague
terror, and she sank into the first seat by the door.

She could not see the face of the priest at the altar. His voice was
unfamiliar. The tinkle of the bell sounded from an infinite distance.
The sound of footsteps came down the aisle. It must be some one
carrying the plate for the offering. As he advanced slowly she could
hear the clink of the coins dropping into it. Mechanically she put her
hand in her pocket and drew out the little piece of silver and the
four coppers that by chance were there.

When the man came near she saw that he was dressed in a white robe
with a hood over his face. The plate was full of golden coins. She
held out her poor little offering. The man in the cowl shook his head
and drew back the plate.

"It is for the souls of the dead," he whispered, "the dead whom we
have loved too much. Nothing but gold is good enough for this
offering."

"But this is all I have," she stammered.

"There is a ring on your hand," he answered in a voice which pierced
her heart.

Shivering dumbly like a dog, palsied with pain, yet compelled by an
instinct which she dared not resist, she drew her wedding-ring from
her finger and dropped it into the plate.

As it fell there was a clang as if a great bell had tolled; and she
rose and ran from the church, never stopping until she reached her own
room and fell on her knees beside her bed, sobbing as if her heart
would break.

The first thing that roused her was the clatter of the dishes in the
kitchen. The yellow light of morning filled the room. She wondered to
find herself fully dressed and kneeling by the bed instead of sleeping
in it. It was late, she had missed the hour of Mass. Her glance fell
upon her left hand, lying stretched out upon the bed. The third finger
was bare.

All the scene in the church rushed over her like a drive of logs in
the river when the jam breaks. She felt as helpless as a little child
in a canoe before the downward sweeping flood. She did not wish to cry
out, to struggle--only to crouch down, and cover her eyes, and wait.
Whatever was coming would come.

Then the force of youth and hope and love rose wi