"Perhaps not," Darrell admitted; "but that of itself is not what so
greatly surprises me. Are you a----" He paused abruptly, without
finishing the question.
"I will answer the question you hesitate to ask," the other replied;
"no, I am not a Catholic; neither am I, in the strict sense of the word,
a Protestant, or one who protests, since, if I were, I would protest no
more earnestly against the errors of the Catholic Church than against
the evils existing in other so-called Christian churches."
Darrell's eyes returned to the crucifix.
"That," continued Mr. Britton, "was given me years ago by a beloved
friend of mine--a priest, now an archbishop--in return for a few
services rendered some of his people. I keep it for the lessons it
taught me in the years of my sorrow, and whenever my burden seems
greater than I can bear, I come back here and look at that, and beside
the suffering which it symbolizes my own is dwarfed to insignificance."
A long silence followed; then, as they lay down in the darkness, Darrell
said, in subdued tones,-"I have never heard you say, and it never before occurred to me to ask,
what was your religion."
"I don't know that I have any particular religion," Mr. Britton
answered, slowly; "I have no formulated creed. I am a child of God and a
disciple of Jesus, the Christ. Like Him, I am the child of a King, a son
of the highest Royalty, yet a servant to my fellow-men; that is all."
The following morning Mr. Britton awakened Darrell at an early hour.
"Forgive me for disturbing your slumbers, but I want you to see the
sunrise from these heights; I think you will feel repaid. You could not
see it at the camp, you were so hemmed in by higher mountains."
Darrell rose and, having dressed hastily, stepped out into the gray
twilight of the early dawn. A faint flush tinged the eastern sky, which
deepened to a roseate hue, growing moment by moment brighter and more
vivid. Chain after chain of mountains, slumbering dark and grim against
the horizon, suddenly awoke, blushing and smiling in the rosy light.
Then, as rays of living flame shot upward, mingling with the crimson
waves and changing them to molten gold, the snowy caps of the higher
peaks were transformed to jewelled crowns. There was a moment of
transcendent beauty, then, in a burst of glory, the sun appeared.
"That is a sight I shall never forget, and one I shall try to see
often," Darrell said, as they retraced their steps to the cabin.
"You will never find it twice the same," Mr. Britton answered; "Nature
varies her gifts so that to her true lovers they will not pall."