lived. It was, in the beginning, no vulgar nor mercenary ambition that
made her seek the Doctor as a husband for her daughter. He was poor,
and she had had offers from richer men. He was often unpopular; but he
of all the world was the man she most revered, the man she believed in
with the most implicit faith, the man who embodied her highest ideas of
the good; and therefore it was that she was willing to resign her child
to him.

As to James, she had felt truly sympathetic with his mother, and with
Mary, in the dreadful hour when they supposed him lost; and had it not
been for the great perplexity occasioned by his return, she would have
received him, as a relative, with open arms. But now she felt it her
duty to be on the defensive,--an attitude not the most favorable for
cherishing pleasing associations in regard to another. She had read the
letter giving an account of his spiritual experience with very sincere
pleasure, as a good woman should, but not without an internal
perception how very much it endangered her favorite plans. When Mary,
however, had calmly reiterated her determination, she felt sure of her;
for had she ever known her to say a thing she did not do?

The uneasiness she felt at present, was not the doubt of her daughter's
steadiness, but the fear that she might have been unsuitably harassed
or annoyed.


CHAPTER XXXVIII.

THE TRANSFIGURED.

The next morning rose calm and fair. It was the Sabbath-day,--the last