sufferance, indulgently tolerated by the unseen power which hovered
over Evelina even in the absence of its minister. The priest came
almost daily; and at last a day arrived when he was called to
administer some rite of which Ann Eliza but dimly grasped the
sacramental meaning. All she knew was that it meant that Evelina
was going, and going, under this alien guidance, even farther from
her than to the dark places of death.

When the priest came, with something covered in his hands, she
crept into the shop, closing the door of the back room to leave him
alone with Evelina.

It was a warm afternoon in May, and the crooked ailanthus-tree
rooted in a fissure of the opposite pavement was a fountain of
tender green. Women in light dresses passed with the languid step
of spring; and presently there came a man with a hand-cart full of
pansy and geranium plants who stopped outside the window,
signalling to Ann Eliza to buy.

An hour went by before the door of the back room opened and
the priest reappeared with that mysterious covered something in his
hands. Ann Eliza had risen, drawing back as he passed. He had
doubtless divined her antipathy, for he had hitherto only bowed in
going in and out; but to day he paused and looked at her
compassionately.

"I have left your sister in a very beautiful state of mind,"
he said in a low voice like a woman's. "She is full of spiritual
consolation."