windows, he had indeed a weak human desire to go in and oppose in his
own person a debased and idolatrous superstition with some happily
chosen question that would necessarily make the officiating priest and
his congregation exceedingly uncomfortable. But he resisted; partly in
the hope of meeting some idolater on his way to Benediction, and, in
the guise of a stranger seeking information, dropping a few unpalatable
truths; and partly because he could unbosom himself later to Demorest,
who he was not unwilling to believe had embraced Popery with his
adoption of a Spanish surname and title.

It had become quite dark when he reached the long wall that enclosed
Demorest's premises. The wall itself excited his resentment, not only
as indicating an exclusiveness highly objectionable in a man who
had emigrated from a free State, but because he, Ezekiel Corwin, had
difficulty in discovering the entrance. When he succeeded, he found
himself before an iron gate, happily open, but savoring offensively of
feudalism and tyrannical proprietorship, and passed through and entered
an avenue of trees scarcely distinguishable in the darkness, whose
mysterious shapes and feathery plumes were unknown to him. Numberless
odors equally vague and mysterious were heavy in the air, strange and
delicate plants rose dimly on either hand; enormous blossoms, like
ghostly faces, seemed to peer at him from the shadows. For an instant
Ezekiel succumbed to an unprofitable sense of beauty, and acquiesced in
this reckless extravagance of Nature that was so unlike North Liberty.
But the next moment he recovered himself, with the reflection that it
was probably unhealthy, and doggedly approached the house. It was a
long, one-storied, structure, apparently all roof, vine, and pillared
veranda. Every window and door was open; the two or three grass hammocks
swung emptily between the columns; the bamboo chairs and settees were
vacant; his heavy footsteps on the floor had summoned no attendant; not