He looked at the titles in an uncritical spirit and took them as they came. The volumes belonged to the "Thinker's Library," a somewhat poorly bound, carelessly edited series of English novels and translations of other European novels and tales. It was a curious list which he transcribed--"Bertha Garlan," "Russian Stories," "Esther Waters."
He found at last in a store, where he had to thread his way among women buying laces and handkerchiefs and table linen, a corner where books were sold. The first two volumes on his list were on hand, "Esther Waters" was not to be had, but "Evelyn Innes" was suggested by the clerk as a substitute. Then, his bundle under his arm, he walked out. Now that his business was attended to, he would satisfy his still undulled curiosity. It seemed to him that the gaze of every passer-by sought his, and he was uneasy until he realized that his glance sought the eye of every passer-by. This fact discovered, he walked on looking straight ahead and holding his shoulders stiffly.
He came at last to the street with the park in the center running from the Capitol to the river. There stood large churches, and seeing a few women enter the most imposing, he entered also. He made no excuse for himself, though he knew that his uncle would not approve; an inspection of churches seemed a legitimate part of his expedition.
When with a single astonished glance he saw that the few worshipers were kneeling, he knelt also. He had not dreamed that anywhere but in the Saal men went to pray alone. He prayed now for the Kloster and for his uncle and for Ellen--poor little Ellen whose sobs he would never forget. It seemed to him that God spoke to him and told him that it would be right to help her to her heart's desire, and he sighed happily.
Then--it may have been the tinkle of beads slipping from finger to finger, it may have been a subtle ecclesiastical odor different from the odor of the Saal--he felt a sudden misgiving. He opened his eyes slowly and looked at the woman kneeling near by, who was not so absorbed in her devotions that she did not have a startled eye for her neighbor whom she believed to be some sort of very holy man. Next he saw the stations of the cross along the wall, and then the marble altar with its tiny, gleaming lamp. Whither, oh, whither had he come?
