usual, under the pervading glory of the still sunshine. Even the little streams had a subdued Sunday gurgle in their sound, and the great crows and buzzards that looked like small sparrows far up in the blue tilted their outstretched pinions sideways, and described great crescents in the air, with a semblance of awe and solemnity that almost made their every motion seem an act of praise. The nearer birds flew by with an unusual sedateness, as if they were going to church, and twittered so gently that their songs seemed hymns. One provident bird-father, whose brood was too young for ecclesiastical observances, flitted through the mild air with a worm in his beak, and as he lighted beside the grassy nest he chirped so reprovingly at the greedy motions of his young that one might have thought he was reminding them to be temperate in their meats and drinks on Sunday and not disgrace their pious church-going mother. The very flowers seemed to bloom with a milder beauty than on week-days, and one could fancy that Loir odors smelt of incense. The great, majestic cloud-banks piled high up away in the west were as white and still as marble, and looked as if they might be temple walls.
Very different were the humble temple walls beneath, where Dr. Gray was reading the word of God to a handful of uncouth worshippers, too ignorant and untaught to do more than grasp at its spirit, which seemed clearest to their minds, perhaps, when Stella sang. Dr. Gray was reading out a hymn now, in a fine impressive voice, when there was a slight stir near the door, and two young men entered softly. Stella glanced toward them, and then let her eyes fall. She dared not look again; her whole mind was concentrated on the necessity to be calm and to carry out her part as if nothing had happened. When Dr. Gray finished reading the hymn, the little congregation rose, and Stella rose with them. She did not look toward the door, but she dimly perceived that the two strangers had risen also and were waiting with the rest of the congregation. What were they waiting for? A sudden blur of mind had caused her to forget for an instant, but now, as she remembered, she lifted up her pure young voice and sang:
Thou hidden love of God, whose height,
Whose depth unfathomed no man knows,
I see from far thy beauteous light,
Inly I sigh for thy repose:
My heart is pained, nor can it be
At rest, till it find rest in thee.
It seemed the very spirit of the blessed tranquillity that brooded over the face of nature on that day,—a verbal expression of the aspiration pervading earth and air and sky; and Stella's voice, true, steady,
