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 Rosalind's enthusiastic soul was just adapted to the reception of these radical ideas, but it was little she said. With that delicate instinct which swayed them all she made no allusion to her mother's opposition, not even to her husband. All felt that a "shadow was resting over their happiness and none liked to allude to it. Even little Lilly seemed to comprehend the changes in the family atmosphere, and prattled less than formerly,—perhaps because the repressed buoyancy of their spirits failed to draw her out. Nestled in her father's arms she would sometimes sit a whole hour in the evening perfectly quiet save when he caressed her and brought into her eyes a radiant gush of happiness, when she would look around the room from one to another to see if they shared it, which of course they did for her sake.

Doubts and fears arose to perplex the young man's soul. "Had I not better give it up," said he to himself, "is it not a filial duty I owe to my mother to regard her feelings in the matter? Is it not a responsibility which rests on the church alone?"

Leaving his meal untasted he arose from the tea-table and withdrew to his chamber. After pacing the floor for a few moments, he sat down by the window, mechanically turning the pages of a Bible that lay open before him on a table near. Chancing to glance at its contents his eyes rested on the passage, "Whoso loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of me."

A new meaning suddenly emanated from those simple words, words that were as familiar to his ears as their own family names, and yet never arrested