A good-humored widow, fair, and if mature, not old, and with the allurement of the possession of boundless wealth; two lovely maids; a brace of well-disposed young men, of whom one was strikingly beautiful and guileless, the other less comely as less innocent, yet in these respects not deficient, and the heir of millions; finally, a genial theologian and a philosopher, summer and Heidelberg—given these components and it must be confessed that the impromptu reunion of the Claghorns promised present enjoyment and gratifying memories for the future. The various members of the clan acted as if they so believed and were content. There were moments, indeed, when the genial Jared was moved to bewail the absence of Miss Achsah Claghorn, as being the only notable member of the family not present. The philosopher admitted a youthful acquaintance with the lady in question, who was his aunt, and echoed the Professor's eulogy, but evinced resignation. To the others, except to Leonard, who had evidently been taught to revere Miss Achsah, she was personally unknown, hence the loss occasioned by her absence was by them unfelt.

"She is greatly exercised just now," observed Jared, "by an event which possesses interest for all of us, and which ought to especially interest you, 'Liph."

"Salvation for the heathen by means of moral pocket handkerchiefs?" drawled the philosopher, secretly annoyed by the clergyman's persistent use of his discarded Christian name.

"She says a sacrilegious scheme; nothing short of the desecration of your namesake's grave," retorted the Professor.

The party was grouped on the great terrace of the castle, against the balustrade of which the clergyman leaned as he addressed his audience with somewhat of the air of a lecturer, an aspect which was emphasized by his use of a letter which he had drawn from his pocket, and to which he pointed with his long forefinger.

"You are all doubtless aware," he observed, "that Miss Achsah is the sister of the late Reverend Eliphalet Claghorn, father of our cousin and friend here present" (indicating Monsieur, who bowed to the speaker), "and, as the sister of your deceased husband, Mrs. Joseph, she is your sister-in-law."

The lady smilingly assented to a proposition indisputable, and which probably contained no element of novelty to her; while Jared informed Mark and Natalie that the writer of the letter in his hand was aunt to the youth and great-aunt to the maiden. "She is also cousin to me, and in a further remove to Leonard," and having thus defined the status of Miss Claghorn, he proceeded to explain that he had reminded his hearers of the facts for the reason that the matter concerning which the lady's letter treated was of interest to all present, "except to you, my dear," he added sympathizingly to Paula, "you not being a Claghorn."

"We compassionate you, Mademoiselle," observed the philosopher to the damsel, "and I am sure," he added in a lower tone, "you are sorry for us." To which, Paula, who did not quite understand the philosopher, responded only with a smile and a blush.

"Miss Achsah's letter," continued the Professor, ignoring the by-play, and addressing Mrs. Joe, is dated two months since, and runs thus:

"'I wrote in my last of the strange events taking place in Easthampton. At that time there were only rumors; now there are facts to go upon. The tract given by our ancestor to the Lord is at this moment the property of a New York lawyer. You know that I long ago tried to buy the tomb and was refused. The trustees assure me that it will not be desecrated, that the purchaser promised of his own accord that the sacred dust should not be disturbed. I told them that they might advantageously take lessons in reverence from the lawyer, so there is a coolness between the trustees and myself.' (I am really very sorry for that," muttered the reader parenthetically)——

"As I understand," interrupted Mrs. Joe, "the land was owned by the Seminary, and the Seminary which is now in Hampton was to have been built upon it. Is that what my sister-in-law means by saying it was given to the Lord?"

"Her view is not exactly correct," replied the Professor. "I am myself one of the trustees. Possibly, Eliphalet Claghorn hoped that the Seminary would eventually be erected upon the land he gave toward its foundation. Evidently his successors, the fathers of the church, preferred Hampton to Easthampton."

"In those days Easthampton was a busy mart of trade—they do say the slave trade," observed the philosopher. "Hampton, as a secluded village, not liable to incursions of enslaved heathen, godless sailors or godly traders, was better fitted for pious and scholastic meditation, and——"

"Now the conditions are reversed," interrupted Jared; "Hampton is a considerable city, Easthampton a quiet suburb."

"Does Miss Achsah say what the lawyer intends to do with his purchase?" asked Mrs. Joe.

"No doubt he represents a concealed principal," suggested the philosopher, "probably a rival institution—a Jesuit College."

Jared turned pale. "You don't really suppose, 'Liph—but, no! I am sure my co-trustees could not be taken in."

Mrs. Joe cast a reproachful glance at the philosopher. "Miss Achsah would surely have detected a Jesuit plot had there been one," she observed encouragingly. "But why is she so indignant?"

"She has long wanted to purchase the ground about the tomb," replied Jared. "Naturally, she feels aggrieved that it will come into the hands of a stranger. The trustees, to my knowledge, tried to retain it, with the rest of the waste ground, and to sell only the old wharves and houses, but the lawyer insisted; in fact, paid a high price for the waste land which includes the grave."

"Mysterious, if not Jesuitical," murmured Beverley; but the clergyman affected not to hear.

"Has Miss Achsah no knowledge of the intentions of the purchaser?" asked the lady.

"This is what she says," answered the Professor, consulting the letter:

"'The trustees conceal the purpose for which the land is wanted, but I forced the information from Hacket when I informed him that, if I so desired, I could give the management of my affairs to young Burley. At this, Mr. Hacket came down from his high horse and informed me in confidence that the lawyer is to build a grand residence at the Point, and will spend an immense amount of money. All of which is not reassuring, if true. Although the place has been shamefully neglected, I was always glad to know that the Tomb was there, solitary amid the crags; only the sea-roar breaking the silence. I suppose there will be other sounds now, not so pleasant to think about.'"

"Well," observed Mrs. Joe, after a pause, "let us hope that Miss Achsah will be reconciled after the lawyer's plans are more fully developed. He seems to be willing to respect the tomb."

"What is this tomb?" asked Natalie.

"The Tomb of Eliphalet Claghorn, the first of your race in the New World," explained the Professor reverently, and not without a reproachful glance at the philosopher, who had too evidently left his daughter in ignorance of much family history.

"He came over in the Mayflower," observed Leonard in a low tone to Natalie; and then, to his surprise, found it necessary to explain his explanation, for which purpose, in company with the girl he strolled away.

They paused at a little distance, and leaning upon the stone balustrade, looked down upon the town or at the plain beyond, or across the Neckar at the hills of the Philosophenweg. Here Leonard told his foreign cousin the story of the first Eliphalet.

"A strange story," was her comment.

"A noble story," he corrected.

"All sacrifice is noble. I know a woman in extreme poverty who gave ten francs to regild a tawdry statue of the Virgin."

"Deplorable!" exclaimed Leonard severely.

"Pitiful, rather. Consider what the sum was to her! The needs she sacrificed—and for what?"

"Sacrifice wasted, and degradingly wasted."

"Wasted, doubtless; but why degradingly?"

"Granted that your poor woman was sincere"—which, however, the speaker seemed to grant but grudgingly—"the sacrifice was still degrading in that it was made to superstition."

She smiled. "What would my poor woman say of Grandfather Eliphalet?"

"It's a question, you see, of the point of view," observed Mark, who had sauntered to where they stood.

"It's a question of truth and falsehood," retorted Leonard a little stiffly, and not best pleased with the interruption of the tÊte-À-tÊte.

"Do you know the truth?"

"God is truth."

"A truly theological elucidation," said Mark.

"What do you say, Cousin Natalie?" asked Leonard wistfully.

She had been gazing across the plain at the towers of Ladenburg, gleaming in the glow of the setting sun. "Can anybody say?" she answered. "Look at the plain," she added, stretching forth her hand, "these battered walls, the city at our feet. How often have they been scorched by fire and soaked in blood; and always in the cause of that truth which so many said was false!"

"Rather, because of the schemes of ambitious men," said Leonard.

"The pretext was always religion. Priests always the instigators of the wars," said Mark.

"Priests, yes, I grant you——"

"I include those of the Reformation. The bloodiest history of this place is its history since the Reformation. The source of its horrors was religion, always religion."

"For which reason," retorted Leonard, "you would blame religion, rather than the men who made it a cloak to ambition."

"One asks: What is religion?" said Natalie. "Catholics say of Frederick, who reigned here, that he was led by ambition to his fall; Protestants, that he fell a glorious sacrifice in the cause of truth. Who shall judge?"

"False ideas of duty lead to perdition," said Leonard sententiously.

"Which would seem to demonstrate that Frederick was in the wrong," observed Mark. "That may be so, but it hardly lies in the mouth of a student of Hampton."

"Of course, I know that Frederick was the Protestant champion," said Leonard, annoyed; "but——"

"Yet he lost his cause! How can one know—how do you know the truth?" The girl looked up with an eager expression as she asked the question.

"I know because I feel it," he answered in a low tone. They were solemn words to him, and as he uttered them a longing to show truth to this fair maid arose within him.

"And if one does not know, one cannot feel," murmured Natalie sadly. "Catholics, Jews, Protestants, all feel and all know——"

"That the others are all wrong," interjected Mark.

Meanwhile, the others of the party were approaching, the Professor expatiating to Paula anent the glories of the Claghorn race; not such glories, as he pointed out, as those of which they saw the evidences in the effigies of warriors and carved armorial bearings; but higher glories, humble deeds on earth, of which the story illuminated the celestial record. The dissertation had been commenced for the general weal, but the widow and the philosopher had gradually dropped behind, leaving Paula alone to derive benefit from the lessons drawn by Cousin Jared from the Claghorn history as contrasted with that of the rulers of the Palatinate.