"It is the anniversary of the greatest event of time," said Lothair;
"and I should be sorry if any of my Church did not entirely regard it,
though they may show that regard in a way different from your own."

"Yes, yes," murmured Lady St. Jerome; "there should be no difference
between our Churches, if things were only properly understood. I would
accept all who really bow to the name of Christ; they will come to the
Church at last; they must. It is the atheists alone, I fear, who are
now carrying every thing before them, and against whom there is no
comfort, except the rock of St. Peter."

Miss Arundel crossed the room, whispered something to her aunt, and
touched her forehead with her lips, and then left the apartment.

"We must soon separate, I fear," said Lady St. Jerome; "we have an
office to-night of great moment; the Tenebrae commence to-night. You
have, I think, nothing like it; but you have services throughout this
week."

"I am sorry to say I have not attended them," said Lothair. "I did at
Oxford; but I don't know how it is, but in London there seems no
religion. And yet, as you sometimes say, religion is the great business
of life; I sometimes begin to think the only business."

"Yes, yes," said Lady St. Jerome, with much interest, "if you believe
that you are safe. I wish you had a clergyman near you while you are
here. See Mr. Claughton, if you like; I would; and, if you do not,
there is Father Coleman. I cannot convey to you how satisfactory
conversation is with him on religious matters. He is the holiest of