eleventh hour over the silent city. Charles counted the solemn booms
of the church bell, and then, as if resuming the conversation with
Henry: "Eleven o'clock, and father not come home yet! I am sure I
don't know what keeps father out every night so late; if poor mother
were alive, she would never stand this."

"But perhaps pa may have important business and can't come home," we
hear the amiable Henry suggesting.

"Business! Nothing of the kind. He has got in amongst some old fools
who pretend to have more knowledge than their grandfathers, and are
deceiving old women of both sexes to such a degree that they actually
fancy they are inspired to make new Bibles, new commandments, and new
churches."

"But father might be trying to put them right," replied Henry softly,
"and perhaps feels as you do. How sad to see them going astray!"

"No," answered the other with greater animation, "he is as bad as any
of them. You remember long ago how he used to make poor mother cry
when speaking of the great mystery of Redemption; he called it the
greatest swindle the world ever saw. You remember what blasphemous
and insulting language he addressed to the Sisters of St. Vincent when
they asked for alms in honor of the Blessed Virgin; and you know how
he is always reading the most impious works.

"He is now shut up in one of those mysterious rooms called Freemason
lodges, where, if report be true, the enemies of the Church and state
plot the ruin of mankind. Henry, he is not only an infidel and a
Freemason, but he is unkind to us."