right, I
thought, and bore the safe sanction of custom, and the well worn stamp of use.
    »Miss Snowe,« recommenced Dr. John - my health, nervous system included,
being now somewhat to my relief, discussed and done with - »is it permitted me
to ask what your religion now is? Are you a Catholic?«
    I looked up in some surprise - »A Catholic? No! Why suggest such an idea?«
    »The manner in which you were consigned to me last night, made me doubt.«
    »I consigned to you? But, indeed, I forget. It remains yet for me to learn
how I fell into your hands.«
    »Why, under circumstances that puzzled me. I had been in attendance all day
yesterday on a case of singularly interesting, and critical character; the
disease being rare, and its treatment doubtful: I saw a similar and still finer
case in a hospital at Paris; but that will not interest you. At last a
mitigation of the patient's most urgent symptoms (acute pain is one of its
accompaniments) liberated me, and I set out homeward. My shortest way lay
through the Basse Ville, and as the night was excessively dark, wild and wet, I
took it. In riding past an old church belonging to a community of Béguines, I
saw by a lamp burning over the porch or deep arch of the entrance, a priest
lifting some object in his arms. The lamp was bright enough to reveal the
priest's features clearly, and I recognized him; he was a man I have often met
by the sick beds of both rich and poor: and, chiefly, the latter. He is, I
think, a good old man, far better than most of his class in this country;
superior, indeed, in every way: better informed, as well as more devoted to
duty. Our eyes met, he called on me to stop; what he supported was a woman,
fainting or dying. I alighted.
    This person is one of your countrywomen, he said: save her, if she is not
dead.
    My countrywoman, on examination, turned out to be the English teacher at
Madame Beck's pensionnat. She was perfectly unconscious, perfectly bloodless,
and nearly cold.
    What does it all mean? was my inquiry.
    He communicated a curious account: that you had been to him that evening at
confessional; that your exhausted and suffering appearance, coupled with some
things you had said -«
    »Things I had said? I wonder