That I may now ascertain whether or not my surmises were correct, I ask you for what purpose are you come hither ?' Philammon hailed the question as a godsend .-- Now for his message! And yet he faltered as he answered, with a desperate effort,--'To rebuke you for your sins.' 'My sins! What sins ?' she asked, as she looked up with a stately, slow surprise in those large gray eyes, before which his own glance sank abashed, he knew not why.

What sins ?--He knew not.

Did she look like a Messalina?
But was she not a heathen and a sorceress ?--And yet he blushed, and stammered, and hung down his head, as, shrinking at the sound of his own words, he replied-- 'The foul sorceries--and profligacy worse than sorceries, in which, they say--' He could get no farther: for he looked up again and saw an awful quiet smile upon that face.

His words had raised no blush upon the marble cheek.
'They say! The bigots and slanderers; wild beasts of the desert, and fanatic intriguers, who, in the words of Him they call their master, compass heaven and earth to make one proselyte, and when they have found him, make him two-fold more the child of hell than themselves.

Go--I forgive you: you are young, and know not yet the mystery of the world.
Science will teach you some day that the outward frame is the sacrament of the soul's inward beauty.