her forward, and when she had passed through the great door into the nave
she breathed a sigh of relief. A soothing sense of respite came over
her, such as she had rarely felt; for the lofty building, which was only
half full, was deliciously cool and the subdued light was restful to her
eyes. The slight perfume of incense and the sober singing of the
assembled worshippers were soothing to her senses, and, as she took a
seat on one of the benches, she felt sheltered and safe.

The old church struck her as a home of perfect peace; in all the city,
she thought, there could hardly be another spot where she might rest so
quietly and contentedly. So for some little time she gave herself up,
body and soul, to the refreshing influences of the coolness, the
solemnity, the fragrance and the music; but presently her attention was
attracted to two women in the seats just in front of her.

One of them, who had a child on her arm, whispered to her neighbor:

"You here, Hannah, among the unbaptized? How are you going on at home?"

"I cannot stay long," was the answer. "It is all the same where one
sits, and when I leave I shall disturb no one. But my heart is heavy;
the child is very bad. The doctor says he cannot live through the day,
and I felt as if I must come to church."

Very right, very right. Do you stay here and I will go to your house at
once; my husband will not mind waiting."

"Thank you very much, but Katharine is staying with the boy and he is
quite safe there."