Kate Turner walked slowly along the street at the foot of Terrace Hill. She looked up at the beautiful home where she had spent the previous evening, and as she saw the velvet lawn and terraced walks bordered with bright flowers, she half pitied herself because she was only a plodding music teacher. She was not envious, but she had such longing aspirations to be somebody in the world; she wanted so many things, needed so much to complete her education, and starved herself in so many ways for the sake of completing it, that sometimes she grew discontented with her lot. Fortunately her moods did not last long, however, and especially when she went home to her artist friend, Grace, with whom she shared rooms. They were both making their own way in the world, and were a great help to each other, as well as a great comfort.

Kate was wondering what Mrs. Hayden did every day with her leisure. She should think she would be tired always going to parties and lunches and operas, or receiving calls. "But then, I am thankful to know her," she concluded, casting a last glance at the stately mansion before turning the corner. "After all, life might be worse for me, and I can be a happy nobody if not a famous somebody," she said to herself, as she ran upstairs, after stopping at the baker's for a loaf of bread and a pot of jam.

"Well, Gracious, what noble message have you given to the world through your work to-day?" she cried, a moment later, gaily peering into the studio through the portiÈres that separated their parlor from the work room.

"Is that you, Kate? Well, I've been trying the whole afternoon to make this Hebe look like a modern Hypatia, but——"

"In other words," interrupted Kate, "you would change innocence into intellect. Now, look here, Grace, just leave this dainty girl alone. She would never do to serve the gods if you gave her the aspect and bearing of a goddess. Let her alone, or the world would not recognize her as a representative woman," laughed Kate, inspecting the picture with critical eyes.

"Kate, stop laughing, and tell me truly if you think it would not do to give her a little more independence."

"You know it's the worst thing in the world to give a woman even an inkling that such a thing exists," said the mischievous Kate, with a total abandonment to consequences as she gave the artist an impetuous hug.

"Well, let us have tea, and we'll discuss the subject later," said Grace, somewhat mollified.

"I am afraid, Gracious, you are something in the same mood I was when I started home to-night, but I concluded to let 'dull care' take care of itself, and be merry while the sun shines, which means as long as we have enough to pay our rent, and the prospect of a little more next month," continued Kate as she brought a tiny oil stove from the depths of a closet and proceeded to "put the kettle on."

"I have been so full of thoughts of the nineteenth century that I found it hard to go back to the Pagan ages, but here this picture is ordered, and I must finish it by next week, so I guess this one will have to go without my message," said Grace, a little gloomily, for above all things she loved to put her own individuality into her pictures, which she generally did with rare success.

"You mustn't have just one ideal of woman, or you'll lose the art of painting the sweetest phases of womanhood," replied the busy housemaid from the sepulchral closet.

"Oh! if I have such excellent models as you make in that checked apron and dusting cap, I can do nobly."

Grace laughed good humoredly as she cleaned her palette and set Hebe in one corner.

"Now, my dear, isn't there something I can do to help arrange the feast?" as she went into the little back room they used for a kitchen.

"Yes, wash the grapes and open the jam while I cut the bread and pour the tea."

A few minutes later they were tÊte-À-tÊte at the little table, and as they sat down Grace said with a comical smile: "Quite a difference between our banquet of last night and this, isn't there?"

"I should remark there is, but after all, Grace, I believe I am quite content. As I was passing along at the foot of the hill this evening a momentary dissatisfaction came over me that I couldn't have a few advantages like Mrs. Hayden's, not hers of course, but similar ones," with a smile at the distinction, "and then I wondered how she spends all her leisure, for of course she has the whole twenty-four hours at her disposal, and—well, to be brief, I would not want to live without some object in life, and so I thought it best the way it is now."

"Very wise conclusion, Kate, that's just what I always say, and really who is there with whom we would care to exchange places? There are so many kinds of people and so many things for humanity to contend against, I don't know that I should want to change burdens with anyone."

"Mrs. Dyke, for instance, would you not think yourself fortunate to be like her?" said Kate, with a merry twinkle in her eyes.

"Oh, deliver me from that comparison! Why, she carries everybody's sins on her shoulders; I even heard she had taken Robert Elsmere to throw at the world!" laughed Grace.

"But not his wife; she didn't read about her. Wasn't it too funny to hear her go on last night, and the way she looked at the minister to emphasize her position?"

"Yes, but how many there are like her—read just enough to know there are such and such characters and such and such incidents. Now of course she has heard the minister define Robert's crime, as he would call it I suppose, so she thinks she can use the whole argument," replied Grace, a little scornfully.

"Mrs. Hayden interposed just at the right time. I was glad she did, too. It seems she has considered Catherine's position and could speak a good word for her," said Kate, sipping her tea, thoughtfully.

"Well, if she calls her an ideal of wifely love, I don't admire the reality," exclaimed Grace, with more vigor than elegance, as she put down her tea-cup.

"I got positively impatient," she continued, "when I read about her cruelty to Robert, judging him in that inquisitor's fashion. Poor fellow! I think he died of a broken heart."

"But, Grace, she did what she thought was her religious duty, and it must have been hard for her to withdraw herself so completely when she loved him so much," said the more charitable Kate.

"Do you call that love which would let him go tramping off alone, with not even a word of sympathy, and so afraid that her religion would be contaminated she could not even hear him preach? I don't pretend to be religious, but any religion stands on a poor foundation if it can be swept away by anybody's opinions."

"It wasn't that; it was because she thought it was wrong to listen to heresy, as she supposed it was, and——"

"How did she know? Had she taken pains to find out? Did she study it carefully and have a reason for her cruel judgment?" interrupted the wrathful Grace.

"Well, she was conscientious and was doing what she had been taught was right."

"Kate, if there is anything that makes me out of patience with people it is when they hang all their actions on what somebody else says, and that excuse is simply barbarous in this case."

"Remember that in religion one must follow what he thinks to be right, and Catherine Elsmere represents a large class of people; in fact, the majority of religious people."

Kate was naturally inclined to be charitable, and this, added to her early training in a religious home, as well as her position as a church member, made her understand Catherine's position from a conscientious standpoint much more than Grace. She could readily appreciate the fixed law of conscience Catherine had made for herself by pledging her sacred word of honor to her father, whom she revered as an infallible authority, as most people revere the legends and doctrines of the church.

"I admit that it is right to follow the dictates of one's own conscience, but I believe in having an enlightened conscience, and a reason for opinions. For that matter, so did Robert have a conscience, and while I don't understand his religion, I respect his honesty and effort. There are a great many beautiful things in what he says, but there must be a mistake somewhere in a religion that can not save to the uttermost, and his didn't. I haven't found one that does," said Grace, with some irony.

"Nevertheless, Grace, there is nothing to warrant your assertion in the Bible. The Christian religion is full of the most blessed promises of salvation in everything," said Kate, gently, but flushing a little as she spoke, for she disliked talking religion with Grace, who was so skeptical, although if compelled to do so, it was a matter of duty to stand up for her Christian principles.

"Yes, I admit it gives many wonderful promises, but where are they realized? It seems to me the very fact that the church has not proven them, made such people as Robert Elsmere doubt them even as possible of fulfillment."

"Why Grace, surely you don't disbelieve in the power of God to fulfill the promises?" exclaimed Kate, deeply pained.

"I am talking from Robert Elsmere's standpoint," answered Grace, evasively.

"My sympathy is with Catherine, for to her, religion was a living answer to her deepest needs and feelings, and to doubt that answer was nothing less than sacrilege," said Kate, with a bright red spot on either cheek.

"Well," answered Grace, throwing down her napkin, "I want to see a religion that will stand infinite investigation without falling into ruins, and Robert reasoned himself away from the old beliefs and dogmas because he investigated them. He used his God-given reason, and I think that is to be used as well as the blind, unquestioning faith of Catherine."

"There are times when we need faith and times when we need reason, but faith applies to religion and reason to the things of the world," replied Kate, recalling what she had heard a few Sundays before.

"Well, to me the ideal of religion is a marriage, a union of faith and reason—but this is idle talk. What does anybody know of such perfection as I demand anyway?"

Grace impatiently pushed her chair away from the table, and went to look at her picture again, in a decidedly gloomy mood.