H
AM
I
AN
IN THE
Clutch of Rome.
tof vamatml
HV "liON ..!.!"
CH APTl'-U V.-C witloued.,
A I'R1ESTLV IMMK.
loft aUw, Ml' Ane Allison drew
tde tho ti kt'o fold of a curtain, which
concealed bir oratory, and iskh1 a
quarter of an hour la prayer. Her de
votion over, she drc w the curtain care
fully before the "Holy of Holloa," and
ber pale, spiritual face wore the look
of religious t-cUy w hich totue young
devoteo might have worn who was
going to bo eaH a willing aacrlfioe Into
the ever-craving maw of some cruel,
heathen deity. With ber white robos
trailing over the moalc llior and Per
sian rug, she parsed out of hor sitting
room with it blood-red silk and ebony
appointment, Into ber sUping-room,
an apartment every way calculated to
Invite sleep. On the delicately tinted
celling, directly over the azure huod
canopy of the soft couch so soon to
be exchanged for the hard, narrow bed
of a nun's cell wan an exquisite fresco,
representing tho God of sleep desoend
lng with a wreath of crimson poppies.
Mist Allison maid arrayod her mis
tress In beautiful creation of white
Indian muslin and softest silk, and she
was soon In the drawing-room with her
girl friends, who had been arguing the
pros and cons of the convent case, and
the verdict, irrespective of creeds, had
been that Agnes Alll-on was a deluded
fanatic.
A dinner given by Mayor Allison aud
hi vivacious, handsome wife, was al
way a "thing of beauty and a joy"
while It endured. Mayor Allison (plain,
though rich, Mr. Allison then), a bril
liant man of the world, born and bred
a Catholic, had fallen In love with the
handsome daughter of a United States
gonoral, and married hor according to
thorites of the 1'iotestant religion, In
the house of the bride' parents, In the
presence of five hundred guests
Once, and once only, the priest of
Itome who ofllclated at the church
where the Allison family worshipped,
at the suggestion of a married sister of
the expectant groom (for the Allison
family were bitterly opposed to the non
Catholic girl) had somo times more
than hinted that tho prospective union
would bo of a kind not to be named In
polite society. The priest left the pres
ence of the young, enlightened Ameri
can, with his face deep-dyed with shame
and anger anger with tho man who
had dared to use free and violent lan
guage to him, a consecrated priest of
Home and God. Shitne, that he, a
disciple of Loyola, should have been
guilty ot being led by the suggestions
of a miserable woman, into such a
breach of priestly subtlety, as to use
the same argument for or against, to a
rich, Influential, world educated man,
as he might have used to some weak
minded, credulous woman, or some un
educated plodder of the oiher sex.
Talking whh the archbishop, he
spoke la self deprecation of his wrong
move In the priestly game of checkers,
and received almost as severe a scoring
from his reverence a he hid received
from his rebellious uarishloner.
"A man of Albert Allison's calibre
must have his way without open inter
ference from us," said the bishop, "and
remember, he has a young sistjr(vexy
devout) with a fortune of six million
dollars of her own. Albert, since the
death of his parents, has been her
natural guide and protector, and what
consummate Idiots we would be to soil
the sirerm In which this pretty gold
fish floats, thus hiding the bait which
it has already nibbled, by denouncing
this marriage."
"But tho doctrines of our holy
church, your reverence; surely "
"The church," interrupted the bish
op, "like a wise physician, studies the
idiosyncrasies of humanity as I trust
you will learn in the future (Father
Golden was yet young in the service)
and dispenses her medicine accordingly.
However, we will lose no time in
smoothing over this flaw."
The archbishop rang and ordered
wine. As he place! a glittering glass
before bis visitor, he said:
"We, of the Roman talth, this side
of the ocean, must not forget that we
are Americans, and that America,
though giving protection to all creeds,
Js essentially Protestant."
J'To revert to the Allison matter,
your reverence, Albert Allison has high
political aspirations, and the salve to
A t .
inflicted, must be our strongest su 'port
in all his undertakings."
"Just so." said the bishop, lifting an
other brimming glass to his lips. "You
are confessor, I believe, to the family?
I mean to the ladies I do not suppose
Albert ever enters the confessional."
"Never, I have been assured, since
he reached the age of twenty-one."
"Well, make the most of what you
learn from the ladies. Oalv, I charge
you, improve every opportunity to in
still into the young, Impressionable
Agnes, that all flesh is grass, that the
devil is omnipresent, that the pomps
and vanities of the world are all a fleet
ing 6how; in short but you undjr
stand, my friend."
' Yes," said Father Golden, smiling;
"I understand. The calm, blue sea of
a conventual life I the only aafe sailing
dr tbi delicate little ship of our, with
ber silken Jeweled maW and
treasure laded hold."
' Very prettily expressed," said the
archbishop; "very prettily, Indeed."
Albert Allison wa mayor of New
York City. Agnes wa about to re
nounce the world, anj Archbishop
Dudley wa the honored guest at the
table of ber brother. Not but the
brother wa sorry to see hi beautiful
sUU-r become a nun, and he had pro
tested hotly against iU Hi wife had
been indignant at first, ttien disgusted,
and finally refund.
Like her husband, she loved power,
and the Catholic vote, for or against,
was a power in the land. So she smiled
coldly bright on the archbishop, who
sat at her table very much at borne
among the glittering crystal, the gleam
of gold and silver plate, the sensuous
terfume of flowers, and the viand so
artistically prepared that eating be
canio a luxurious indulgence to the
senses; and one lost sight of the fuel
that it was a common function neces
sary to life.
Many creed diametrically opposed
to each other were represented, but all
had met around the festal board on
equal society footing, lie fined flashes
of wit and repartee were thrown aud
caught, and made to rebound against
tho thrower like brilliant balls from
one end of the table to the other. The
archbishop was radiant. The pretty,
sparkling goldfish ho had angled for,
was firmly fastened to the line, and
priestly hands would never lot go till
It was fairly landed. .
A week from the date of tho dinner
given by tho mayor of the city, his
sister Agnoss publicly renounced the
world, and became the bride of Heaven.
Archbishop Dooley visited Cardinal
Plzanl in Washington, and received
from him cold though earnest congratu
lations on the able way he had man
aged to add this pearl of price to the
treasury of the church.
CHAPTER VI.
A ROMISH ADDEK.
Dora Dillon had been governess to
the children of Senator Maxwell, of
California, for two months. Apparent
ly, little change had taken place in the
household sljice her advent. Still she
ever dropped little seeds along her
pathway, in the hope that some of them
would germinate. Several times she
had taken the oldest girl to church
with her. The child had been fascinated
by the magnificence of the altar with
Its lighted candles, its jeweled orna
ments and its cloths of gold and crim
son. The priest in his handsome rpboa.and
the acolytes with the swinging censers,
had all appealed to her inherent love of
the theatrical, an attribute which all
mankind share in common. After her
first attendance, the child had begged
to go aga'n and her parents had mado
no objections.
Miss Dillon with tine subtlety always
took her to mass with her immediately
after leaving the Presbyterian church,
where she often accompanied the child
to Sunday school, and often insisting
on her remaining to service. The con
trast from the plainly appointed church
and the to the little girl long tire
some tallj of tho minister who locked
like any other man, and the absence of
all outward pomp and ceremony ap
pealing to the senses, mace the child,
as Miss Dillon intended it should, con
trast the forms of worship she wit
nessed, and the contrast was all in
favor of Miss Dillon's church.
Of his child's growing dislike to the
Protestant form of worship and pro
portionate love of the pomp and show
attending the Catholic service, Senator
Maxwell knew nothing. His wife took
charge of the education of the children,
who were still too young to come under
his jurisdiction. Though loving his
wife and children devotedly, and hav
ing the welfare of his home at heart, he
was much engrossed by social and
political duties, which interests his
beautiful, young, Spanish wife shared
with him.
Educated in the Presbyterian faith,
he occasionally attended church. Giv
ing little time to religion, he led an up
right, moral and worldly life. Marry
ing a Catholic girl, and one, too, who
had made her escape from a convent to
his eairer arms, he had little love for
hat he thought to be an arbitrary and
cruel sect. He had never prohibited
his wife from attending her own church,
for he was liberal in his views, and the
question of religion never came up for
uisCuesluu between them. Mrs. Max
well, happy in her marriage and her
motherhood, and feeling indignant at
being thrust into a convent, had never
since hor marriage given any thought
to the faith of her early youth.
Mr. Maxwell had been called away
from the city. It was early afternoon
of a cold, lowering Sunday in the last
week of November. Mrs. Maxwell laid
the book she had been reading on a
table, clasped her hands over her head
and said:
"I am dying, positively dying of
ennui."
Dora Dillon dropped her book in her
lap, glanced at her girlish-looking em
ployer, whose round, white arms ware
exposed nearly to the shoulder, as
their position caused the wide, loose
'eevea of her robe to fall away from
them, and said:
"I, also, suffer from the comp'alnt.
with her yellowish eye which showed
no trace of wearines fastened on the
woman, she wa sworn to tuhjjgate, and
whuwa gazing abstractedly Into the
fire, she continued slowly, "I believe
Ye, I will go to vespers. Vesper music
at SU Mary's 1 divine."
Little Jean, bo was with the other
children in the recess of a window
playing at some child's game of chance,
now came forward and said:
"I, too, will go to veiors. I, al-o,
am tlrid."
"If your mamma will penult, Jean, I
will be pleased to take you."
Slowly the white hand unclasped,
and the mother looking dreamily at
her child, arose from the divun, and
said:
"I will accompany you. Sunday with
out your paa, Jean, Is a very undesir
able day to me. A diversion will be
welcome. Call nurse to the children."
Soon afterward, clothed in cashmere,
silk and softest fur, they left the house
and in less than a quarter of an hour
were ascending the broad stone steps of
St. Mary's cathedral; Dora Dillon with
the exultation of one who had ga ned a
point in some undertaking, and Mrs.
Maxwell with a Utile flutter of excite
ment like one who i about to enter
u(Hn somo novel or unfamiliar scene
For over ten years, she who had drank
in Romanism with her infant milk and
lived with it, till, in her seventeenth
year shohad escaped it all by marrying
hor Amorlcan lover and leaving the
shores of Spain, had not seen the in
side of a Catholic church. In the ves
tibule, she involuntarily followed the
example of Miss Dillon, and drew off
her glove and dipped her finger in the
font of holy water, her little girl lojk
ing on wonderingly.
Miss Dillon led the way down the
long, thickly carpeted aisle to a luxuri
antly cushioned pew In close proximity,
and directly facing the high altar.
Making the usual bow before the altar,
Mrs. Maxwell followed Dora Dillon and
tho child into the low pew, and knelt
on a velvet cushion. As she sank back
on the seat, the organ pealed forth the
voluntary. Down from the gallery into
the confused mingling of purple,
green, and crimson shadows that filled
the church from the stained-glass win
dows, floated tho slow, voluptuous
muslo. O, muse of music, you, who
are so potent in your influence over
mortals for greatest good or darkest
evil, have much to answer for.
The priost,clad in richly embroidered
vestments, preceded and followed by
the acolytes, gilded noiselessly into
the chancel and knelt at the altar. The
familiar ceremonies, the grand music
of tho mass, the image of the vlrgji
mother looking benignly down upon
her from her altar, the incense-laden
air she breached, filled her with a re
ligious ecstasy not knowa to her 6ince
her early childhood.
The soft-voiced priest at the altar
appealing to the court of Heaven in be
half of his flock, know that Dora Dillon
and the straying one she was commls
sloned to bring back into the fold, were
before him. Ho felt no surprise. He
had waited patiently and with confi
dence for their coming. Djra Dillon
had never failed him.
The north wind struck chill and pene
trating through their fur lined gar
ments as they hurried homeward. Miss
Dillon with a littlo shiver, said:
"It is emblematical of the warmth
and comf jrt to be found in the shelter
ing arms of the church when one is
chilled and wearied by the cold breath
of the world."
Mrs. Maxw 11 made no reply, and
soon the massive doors of the Maxwell
residence had opened to admit them
Into its warm, artistic rooms. The ser
vant who admitted them informed Mrs.
Maxwell that her husband's sister (a
lady not expected for several daj a to
come) had, by some miscalculation of
time, arrived during her absence. The
governess and her pupil passed on, and
Mrs. Maxwell hastened to welcome
this guest from the other extreme of
the continent.
She found her sitting very upright
in a chair that had the least possibility
of allowing one to fall into a lounging
attitude in it, and looking rather grim
and ill at ease. She apologized for
being ahead of time, "which was no
fault of her own," she said, "but of the
railroads." Har sister-in-law hastened
to assure her of her welcome, her only
regret at her unexpected arrival being
that the carriage was not there to meet
her, and her brother not at home to
welcome her.
"However," she added with that
pretty though stereotyped Spanish wel
come, "the house is yours."
Martha Maxwell on being left alone
in the suite of rooms assigned her, took
a minute survey of her surroundings
and of the many elegant articles in her
sleeping-room, the majority of which
she knew neither the name nor the use
of. She had been born and raised in a
small town on the coast of Maine, in
homely comfort in the home her father,
James Maxwell, had made, when he
landed on the American shore.
Martha aad her brother were the
survivors of a la-ge family of children,
and when the death of the father oc
curred, (the mother had preceded him
several years) James Maxwell, a youth
of twenty years, now Senator Maxwell,
of California, bad given the homesteal
to bis sitter, then taking a portion of
the small portion left them, be settled
himself in California. In response to
numerous invitations given during tie
last ten year, Martha, to the surprise
of her neighbor, haj suddenly rented
her home and crossed the continent to
visit her brother.
When James Maxwell had written
that he had brought a wife from Spain,
the greatest consternation had pre
vailed among hi friends. The major
1'y of the residents of the remote little
town bad vague idea of Spanish wo
men, think'ng of thera as they were
pictured on the Inside of a ruison-box,
as red bjdiced, short skirted maidens,
with castanets, flying feet and a great
ex(osure of stocking. Or, on some an
cient fan, with the typical mantilla,
open fan and a red ro.-e in her hair,
listening to the strains of a guitar
played under her lattice by soma fan
tastically arrayed youth.
"Miss Maxwell's high-toned brother
had taken to himself a Catholic Span
ish woman for a wife; the family such
rigid Presbyterians, too."
Martha Maxwell, intelligent and
well read and better informed than
most of her neighbors, had not such
crudo ideas as ihey, regarding Spanish
women: still, she was filled with fur
prise at the elegantly dressed woman
who welcomed her as her brother's
wife; and, who, instead of being the
swarthy person her fancy bad seen, had
a complexion of tho hue and smooth
ness of rich cream, and eyes as blue and
limpid as pjolsof blue sea water warmed
by a tropical sun. Aud this immense
house, too, grand as the palaces she
had read of, was brother James' home.
Truly, California was a magical land.
Miss Martha exchanged her traveling
dress for a neutral tinted merino, in
nocent of all superflous drapery, twisted
her iron grey hair into a rigid kaoi at
the back of her head, and passed into
her sitting-room, to await the summons
to dinner. It soon came from Mrs.
Maxwell 1r person, accompanied by the
three children, who, after shyly kiss
ing their strange aunt, led the way to
the dining-room.
There was to be no formality tonight;
papa was away, and they were to dine
with their elders. Miss Dillon was
awaiting them in the dining-room.
The tall, gaunt woman of fifty w hose
attire accentuated every rigid outline
of her form, with her hair strained
back from her full temples, was pre
sented to the fair Jesuit, whose low,
white brow was shaded by a fluffy,
bronze fringe, and whose trailing blue
draperies fell around her well-developed
form in graceful folds.
The steel blue eyes of the uncompris-
ing Presbyterian, and the soft yellow
ish orbs of the papist, looked straight
into each other, and either woman saw
that fierce antagonism could float se
curely in soft yellow mists, or shine
out clear and bright like a star in a
cold, blue sky on a frosty night. In
troduce two strange women of certain
tempermonts, whose paths are to cross
for a length of time, and tho chan :es
are that each, before the conventional
words of acknowledgment have passed
their lips, by some subtle, mental scale,
will have found the true weight and
balance of the other.
Miss Dillon, sitting opposite the
stranger from the far east, knew that a
nettle, which would sting her in many
ways, had suddenly sprung up in her
path. She would handle th-j nettle
carefully, and with velvet gloves al
ways.
That night, alone in her luxurious
room, Mrs. Maxwell thought of her
afternoon visit to the church of her
early youth.
"Was 6he doing right, after all, by
living entirely in the present? Her
children, too, was she not neglecting
her duty to them, in not teaching them,
young though they were, that there
was a life to come, when they should
be through with this? What if by
reason of her neglect, the beings to
whom she had given life, should be
lost through all eternitv? Horrible
thought! Why had these duties and
responsibilities lain dormant so long
in her heart? Had the virgin
most blessed of mothers awakened
them to life, when in an idle hour, she
strayed into her sanctuary "
As a lover of wine long deprived, by
a chance glass feels again its fascinat
ing influence stealing over his senses,
and craves a deeper draught, so this
casual sip of a once familiar spiritual
wine, rose-tinted, perfumed, ard seduc
tive, was casting a glamor over its one
time votary, and gently stimulating a
thirst for more.
CHAPTER VII.
WISE, YET BLINDED.
Senator Maxwell, a handsome, blonde
roan approaching his fortieth year, was
on the eve of departure f ir the national
capital. His wife was to remain at
home with her children during the
ceiling session of congress. She had
passed several winters in Washington,
and the graceful Spanish wifu of the
Pacific Coast Senator had been much
admired, and had more than held her
own. It was with mutual regret that
this separation was to take place, but
Mrs. Maxwell was not inafi. stat)of
health to warrant the fatigue of travel,
nor the performance of duties incum
bent on the wife of a prominent politi
cian. Shi bad told her husband of ber
vl.lt to the church, and be laughed
and made light of it, saying:
"They can't get you away from me
again, Carmellta, and shut you behiud
their saintly gratings, to if you find any
consolation in going tochurch occasion
ally, why go. I am fast loosing faith
in creed though, and I like the Roman
churca least of all, and I do not wish
the children' mind trained in that
direction. I scorn bigolei prejudices,
however, or I should object to a Catho-
llj governess. From my observations
of her, I shouli judge her religion does
not Intrude itself in her daily life, and
she is so companionable in every re
spect, that I am glad to have her with
you."
Ere taking leave of his home, Sena
tor Maxwell said to his sister:
"Have an eye over my wife and
babies, Martha, and stand by them
skould any trouble, real or imaginary,
assail my loved ones. My wife and I
have never been apart for many days at
a time, since our marriage. She may
need cheering up a bit."
Miss Martha, sitting straight up in
her chair, as if the back was a thing to
avoid contact with, said:
"I always try to do my duty, James,
wherever I may be placed, but the
truth compels me to say that I feel like
a brown ground bird might be supposed
to feel, who has wandered into a golden
cage filled with birds of paradise; and,
excuse my passing judgment on a mem
bar of your household, James, wblch
my short sojourn, perhaps, makes in
bad taste, but I mistrust and I can
hardly tell why that governess of
yours. There is something about ber
that our Sjotch ancestry would have
called uncanny."
"Really, Maitha, you have known
Miss Dillon so short a time, or rather
you do not know her, that I think, you
have let 6ome fern nine crochet get in
the way of your sense of justice."
"There is something about the color
of a fabric, by which a woman judges
the practicability of washing it Now,
I judge by the shade and tone of Miss
Dillon's eyes, that she won't wash.
However, time proves all things, so we
will leave all thingc to him," said the
spinster, grimly, as she rose to go, mus
ing as she went, on the mental color
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Jiy "GOXZALKS,"
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