fast-falling rain. One of the priests who was trying to marshal the
scattered children into their former order, so that they might enter
the Cathedral in the manner arranged for the religious service, looked
up to see the cause of the sudden stillness, and muttered a curse under
his breath. But even while the oath escaped his lips, he gave the
signal for the sacred chanting to be resumed, and in another moment the
'Litany of the Virgin' was started in stentorian tones by the leaders
of the procession. Intimidated by the looks, as well as by the commands
of the priests, the girls and children joined in the chanting with
tremulous voices, as they began to file through the Cathedral doors and
enter the great nave. But a magnetic spell, stronger than any
invocation of the Church, had fallen upon the crowd, and they all stood
as though caught in the invisible web of some enchanter, their faces
turned upwards to where Thord's tall figure towered above them. His
eyes glittered as he noted the sudden hush of attention which
prevailed, and lifting his rough cap from his head, he waved it towards
the open door of the Cathedral, through which the grand strains of the
organ rolling out from within gave forth solemn invitation:--

"Sancta Dei Genitrix, Ora pro nobis!"

sang the children, as they passed in line under the ancient porch,
carved with the figures of forgotten saints and bishops, whose stone
countenances had stared at similar scenes through the course of long
centuries.

"Sancta Dei Genitrix, ora pro nobis!" echoed Sergius Thord--"Do you
hear it, O men? Do you hear it, O women? What does it teach you? 'Holy
Mother of God!' Who was she? Was she not merely a woman to whom God
descended? And what is the lesson she gives you? Plainly this--that men