He thought of her, and as he knelt at the
altar, even there he prayed for her; but not as numbers thought upon
the name of Rosalie Sherwood that day; for she also was soon to
appear before a throng, and there was a myriad hearts that throbbed
with expectancy, and waited impatiently for the hour when they
should look upon her.
Bishop Melville had retired at noonday to his study, that he might
be for a few moments alone. He was glancing over the sermon (sic)
the was to deliver that afternoon, when his mother, his proud and
happy mother, came quickly into the room, laid a sealed note on the
table and instantly withdrew, for she saw how he was occupied. When
he had finished his manuscript, the bishop opened the note and
read--could it have been with careless eyes?
"Duncan, I have knelt in the house of the Lord, to-day, and
witnessed your triumph. Ten years ago, when I went desolate and
wretched from your house, I might have prophesied your destiny.
Come, to-night, and behold _my_ triumph--at--the opera-house!
"Your sister,
ROSALIE."
Do you think that, as he read that summons, he hesitated as to
whether he should obey it? If his bishopric had been sacrificed by
it, he would have gone; if disgrace and danger had attended his
footsteps, he would have obeyed her bidding! The love which had been
strengthening in ten long years of loneliness and bereavement, was
not now to stop, to question or to fear.
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