of Confirmation, and dwelling upon its strengthening spiritual effects.

The Bishop was young, too young, Mark thought, since he was not yet
forty. His hair was still black, and his cheeks ruddy. He was quite a
contrast to Father Murray who sat near by. Mark noticed that the
pastor did not wear the manteletta of a prelate, but only the surplice
of a simple priest. There were two other priests in the sanctuary,
both young, one probably the Bishop's secretary.

The Bishop allowed his gaze to wander over the congregation as he spoke
with a rich, clear voice, and with growing eloquence. The children had
fixed their wondering eyes on his impressive figure, as he stood before
them, crozier in hand and mitre on head. Mark found that he was
growing more attentive, and liking the Bishop even better as the sermon
went on. More than that, he found himself interested in the doctrine
of Confirmation, a ceremony which but a few months before he would have
thought quite meaningless. He watched the Bishop and listened as
closely as did the children.

In the very midst of a sentence Mark saw a startled look on the face of
the preacher, a quickly suppressed look that told of great surprise.
The Bishop saved himself from breaking the current of his speech, but
so plainly did Mark notice the instance that his mind jumped at once to
the conclusion that the Bishop had seen in the congregation somebody he
had not expected in that place and at that time. Instinctively Mark's
gaze followed the Bishop's. Across the aisle, and in a direct line
with himself, sat Ruth, veiled as usual, and Madame Neuville. For an
instant only the Bishop's glance rested on the veiled girl; then he
turned again to the children. But the sermon had been spoiled for
Mark. The uneasiness was coming over him again. What did the Bishop