then she pushed the wheel away hastily and left
the room.

Then Prudence crept softly up to Lois's side.
This strange child seemed to be tossed about
by varying moods: to-day she was caressing
and communicative, to-morrow she might be
deceitful, mocking, and so indifferent to the
pain or sorrows of others that you could call
her almost indignant.

"So thou dost not like Pastor Tappau's
prayers?" she whispered.

Lois was sorry to have been overheard, but
she neither would nor could take back her words:

"I like them not so well as the prayers I
used to hear at home."

"Mother says thy home was with the
ungodly. Nay, don't look at me so—it was not I
that said it. I'm none so fond of praying
myself, nor of Pastor Tappau for that matter. But
Faith cannot abide him, and I know why. Shall
I tell thee, cousin Lois?"

"No! Faith did not tell me, and she was
the right person to give her own reasons."

"Ask her where young Mr. Nolan is gone
to, and thou wilt hear. I have seen Faith cry
by the hour together about Mr. Nolan."

"Hush, child, hush!" said Lois, for she
heard Faith's approaching step, and feared lest
she should overhear what they were saying.

The truth was that a year or two before
there had been a great struggle in Salem
village, a great division in the religious body, and
Pastor Tappau had been the leader of the more
violent, and, ultimately, the successful party.
In consequence of this, the less popular
minister, Mr. Nolan, had had to leave the place.
And him Faith Hickson loved with all the
strength of her passionate heart, although he
never was aware of the attachment he had
excited, and her own family were too regardless
of manifestations of mere feeling to ever observe
the signs of any emotion on Faith's part. But
the old Indian servant Nattee saw and observed
them all. She knew, as well as if she had been
told the reason, why Faith had lost all care about
father or mother, brother and sister, about
household work and daily occupation, nay,
about the observances of religion as well.
Nattee read the meaning of the deep smouldering
of Faith's dislike to Pastor Tappau aright;
the Indian woman understood why the girl
(whom alone of all the white people she loved)
avoided the old minister, would hide in the
wood-stack sooner than be called in to listen to
his exhortations and prayers. With savage,
untutored people, it is not "Love me, love my
dog," they are often jealous of the creature
beloved; but it is, " Whom thou hatest I will
hate;" and Nattee's feeling towards Pastor
Tappau was even an exaggeration of the mute,
unspoken hatred of Faith.

For a long time the cause of her cousin's
dislike and avoidance of the minister was a
mystery to Lois; but the name of Nolan remained
in her memory whether she would or no, and it
was more from girlish interest in a suspected
love affair than from any indifferent and
heartless curiosity that she could not help piecing
together little speeches and actions, with Faith's
interest in the absent banished minister for an
explanatory clue, till not a doubt remained in
her mind. And this without any further
communication with Prudence, for Lois declined
hearing any more on the subject from her, and
so gave deep offence. Faith grew sadder and
duller as the autumn drew on. She lost her
appetite, her brown complexion became sallow
and colourless, her dark eyes looked hollow and
wild. The 1st of November was near at hand;
Lois, in her instinctive, well-intentioned efforts
to bring some life and cheerfulness into the
monotonous household, had been telling Faith
of many English customs, silly enough, no
doubt, and which scarcely lighted up a flicker
of interest in the American girl's mind. The
cousins were lying awake in their bed in the
great unplastered room, which was in part store-
room, in part bedroom. Lois was full of
sympathy for Faith that night. For long she had
listened to her cousin's heavy, irrepressible sighs
in silence. Faith sighed because her grief was
of too old a date for violent emotion or crying.
Lois listened without speaking in the dark, quiet
night hours, for a long, long time. She kept
quite still because she thought such vent for
sorrow might relieve her cousin's weary heart.
But when at length, instead of lying motionless,
Faith seemed to be growing restless even to
convulsive motions of her limbs, Lois began to
speak, to talk about England, and the dear old
ways at home, without exciting much attention
on Faith's part, until at length she fell upon the
subject of Hallow E'en, and told about customs
then and long afterwards practised in England,
and scarcely yet died out in Scotland. As she
told of tricks she had often played, of the apple
eaten facing a mirror, of the dripping sheet, of
the basins of water, of the nuts burning side by
side, and many other such innocent ways of
divination by which laughing, trembling
English maidens sought to see the form of their
future husbands, if husbands they were to have,
then Faith listened breathlessly, asking short,
eager questions, as if some ray of hope had
entered into her gloomy heart. Lois went on
speaking, telling her of all the stories that would
confirm the truth of the second sight vouchsafed
to all seekers in the accustomed methods,
half believing, half incredulous herself, but
desiring, above all things, to cheer up poor Faith.

Suddenly Prudence rose up from her truckle-
bed in the dim corner of the room. They had
not thought that she was awake, but she had
been listening long.

"Cousin Lois may go out and meet Satan by
the brook-side if she will, but if thou goest,
Faith, I will tell mother—ay, and I will tell
Pastor Tappau, too. Hold thy stories, Cousin
Lois, I am afeard of my very life. I would
rather never be wed at all than feel the touch of
the creature that would take the apple out of
my hand as I held it over my left shoulder."
The excited girl gave a loud scream of terror at
the image her fancy had conjured up. Faith