"Are you going to church this morning, sir?" inquired Ishmael.

"You are, of course!" said the judge; "for you take care never to miss morning service! So I must go!"

"Not on my account. I know the road," smiled Ishmael.

"Oh, in any case I should go. I promised to go and dine at the parsonage, so as to attend afternoon service also. And when I mentioned to Mr. Wynne that I was expecting you down he requested me, if you arrived in time, to bring you with me, as he was desirous of forming your acquaintance. So you see, Ishmael, your fame is spreading."

"I am very grateful to you and to Mr. Wynne," said Ishmael, as his heart suddenly thrilled to the memory that Wynne was the name of the minister who had united his parents in their secret marriage.

"Has Mr. Wynne been long in this parish?" he inquired.

"Some three or four months, I believe. This is his native State, however. He used to be stationed at the Baymouth church, but left it some years ago to go as a missionary to Farther India; but as of late his health failed, he returned home and accepted the call to take charge of this parish."

Ishmael looked wistfully in the face of the judge and said:

"It was very kind in Mr. Wynne to think of inviting me. Why do you suppose he did it?"

"Why, I really do suppose that the report of your splendid successes in Washington has reached him, and he feels some curiosity to see a young man who in so short a time has attained so high a position."

"No, it is not that," said Ishmael, with a genuine blush at this great praise; "but do you really not know what it is?"

"I do not, unless it is what I said," replied the judge, raising his eyebrows.

"He married my parents, and baptized me; he knows that I bear my mother's maiden name; and he was familiar with my early poverty and struggles for life; he left the neighborhood when I was about eight years old," said Ishmael, in a low voice.

The judge opened his eyes and drooped his head for a few moments, and then said:

"Indeed! Your father, when he told me of his marriage with your mother, did not mention the minister's name. Everything else, I believe, he candidly revealed to me, under the seal of confidence; this omission was accidental, and really unimportant. But how surprised Brudenell will be to learn that his old friend and confidant is stationed here."

"Yes."

"And now I can thoroughly understand the great interest Mr. Wynne feels in you. It is not every minister who is the confidant in such a domestic tragedy as that of your poor mother was, Ishmael. It is not only the circumstances of your birth that interest him in you so much, but those taken in connection with your recent successes. I should advise you to meet Mr. Wynne's advances."

"I shall gratefully do so, sir."

"And now I really do suppose it is time to order the carriage, if we mean to go to church to-day," said the judge, rising and touching the bell.

Jim answered it.

"Have the gray horses put to the barouche and brought around. And put a case of that old port wine in the box; I intend to take it as a present to the parson. I always considered port a parsonic wine, and it really is in this case just the thing for an invalid," said the judge, turning to Ishmael as Jim left the room.

In twenty minutes the carriage was ready, and they started for the church, which was some five miles distant. An hour's drive brought them to it.

A picturesque scene that old St. Mary's church presented. It was situated in a clearing of the forest beside the turnpike road. It was built of red brick, and boasted twelve gothic windows and a tall steeple. The church-yard was fenced in with a low brick wall, and had some interesting old tombstones, whose dates were coeval with the first settlement of the State.

Many carriages of every description, from the barouche of the gentleman to the cart of the laborer, were scattered about, drawn up under the shade of the trees. And saddle-horses and donkeys were tied here and there. And groups of negroes, in their gay Sunday attire, stood gossiping among the trees. Some young men, as usual, were loitering at the church door.

The judge's carriage drew up under the shade of a forest tree, and the judge and Ishmael then alighted, and leaving the horses in the care of the coachman went into the church.

The congregation were already assembled, and soon after Judge Merlin and his guest took their seats the minister entered and took his place at the reading-desk and the services commenced.

There was little in this Sunday morning's service to distinguish it from others of the same sort. The minister was a good man and a plodding country parson. He read the morning prayers in a creditable but by no means distinguished manner. And he preached a sermon, more remarkable for its practical bearing than for its eloquence or originality, his text being in these words: "Faith without works is dead."

At the conclusion of the services, while the congregation were leaving the church, the minister descended from his pulpit and advanced towards Judge Merlin, who was also hastening to meet his pastor.

There was a shaking of hands.

Judge Merlin, who was an eminently practical man in all matters but one, complimented the preacher on his practical sermon.

And then without waiting to hear Mr. Wynne's disclaimer, he beckoned Ishmael to step forward, and the usual formula of introduction was performed.

"Mr. Wynne, permit me--Mr. Worth, Mr. Wynne!"

And then were two simultaneous bows and more handshaking.

But both the judge and Ishmael noticed the wistful look with which the latter was regarded by the minister.

"He is comparing likenesses," thought the judge.

"He is thinking of the past and present," thought Ishmael.

And both were right.

Mr. Wynne saw in Ishmael the likeness to both his parents, and noted how happily nature had distinguished him with the best points of each. And he was wondering at the miracle of seeing that the all- forsaken child, born to poverty, shame, and obscurity, was by the Lord's blessing on his own persevering efforts certainly rising to wealth, honor, and fame.

Mr. Wynne renewed his pressing invitation to Judge Merlin and Mr.

Worth to accompany him home to dinner.

And as they accepted the minister's hospitality the whole party moved off towards the parsonage, which was situated in another clearing of the forest about a quarter of a mile behind the church.

The parson was blessed with the parson's luck of a large family, consisting of a wife, several sisters and sisters-in-law, and nieces, and so many sons and daughters of all ages, from one month old to twenty years, that the judge, after counting thirteen before he came to the end of the list, gave up the job in despair.

Notwithstanding, or perhaps because of, this, for "the more, the merrier," you know, the family dinner passed off pleasantly. And after dinner they all returned to church to attend the afternoon service.

And when that was ended Judge Merlin and Ishmael took leave of the parson and his family and returned home.

When they reached Tanglewood and alighted, the judge, who was first out, was accosted by his servant Jim, who spoke a few words in a low tone, which had the effect of hurrying the judge into the house.

Ishmael followed at his leisure.

He entered the drawing room and was walking slowly and thoughtfully up and down the room, when the sound of voices in the adjoining library caught his ear and transfixed him to the spot.

"Yes, papa, I am here, and alone--strange as this may seem!"

It was the voice of Claudia that spoke these words.