your marriage with that penniless Protestant proved a failure?"
Madam Chenoweth arose, her queenly form drawn to its full height, and her face glowing with scorn and indignation.
"A failure, Louis Van Steen? Know you that to-day John Chenoweth is dearer to me than aught else save my love to Christ and my hope of heaven. I have been honored above women by his choice. I have tasted the sweetest cup of earthly joy by his side." Then, fearing that she had said too much, and not wishing to anger the man before her, she added, "The playmate of my childhood had ever a kind, generous heart. I cannot believe that he has come to-day simply to taunt me in my grief and loneliness."
"You are right, Madam. I have a mission to perform, which I had well-nigh forgotten, in the overwhelming tide of reminiscences which swept over me when I saw your face. You are little changed from the Mistress Van Cortlandt of other days, save as the promise of youth has been gloriously fulfilled. It is not wise for me to dwell upon the past. But there is one more circumstance which I should like to recall to your mind. When that ardent youth, Louis Van Steen, realized that he was rejected by Mistress Van Cortlandt, thinking in his blind infatuation that nothing stood in the way of his acceptance but the difference in faith,
