Nattee laughed aloud, and talked and chuckled
to herself: " Old Indian woman great mystery.
Old Indian woman sent hither and thither; go
where she is told, where she hears with her
ears. But old Indian woman"—and here she
drew herself up, and the expression of her face
quite changed—" know how to call, and then
white man must come; and old Indian have
spoken never a word, and white man have hear
nothing with his ears." So the old crone muttered.

All this time things were going on very
differently in the keeping-room to what Lois
imagined. Faith sat stiller even than usual:
her eyes downcast, her words few. A quick
observer might have noticed a certain
tremulousness about her hands, and an occasional
twitching throughout all her frame. But Pastor
Nolan was not a keen observer upon this
occasion; he was absorbed with his own little
wonders and perplexities. His wonder was that
of a carnal man—who that pretty stranger might
be, who had seemed, on his first coming, so glad
to see him, but had vanished instantly,
apparently not to reappear. And, indeed, I am not
sure if his perplexity was not that of a carnal
man rather than that of a godly minister, for
this was his dilemma. It was the custom of
Salem (as we have already seen) for the minister,
on entering a household for the visit which,
among other people and in other times, would
have been termed a " morning call," to put up
a prayer for the eternal welfare of the family
under whose roof-tree he was. Now this prayer
was expected to be adapted to the individual
character, joys, sorrows, wants, and failings of
every member present, and here was he, a
young pastor alone with a young woman, and
he thought—vain thoughts, perhaps, but still
very natural—that the implied guesses at her
character, involved in the minute supplications
above described, would be very awkward in a
tête-à-tête prayer; so, whether it was his wonder
or his perplexity, I do not know, but he
did not contribute much to the conversation for
some time, and at last, by a sudden burst of
courage and impromptu hit, he cut the Gordian
knot by making the usual proposal for prayer,
and adding to it a request that the household
might be summoned. In came Lois, quiet and
decorous; in came Nattee, all one impassive,
stiff piece of wood; no look of intelligence or
trace of giggling near her countenance. Solemnly
recalling each wandering thought, Pastor Nolan
knelt in the midst of these three to pray. He
was a good and truly religious man, whose
name here is the only thing disguised, and
played his part bravely in the awful trial to
which he was afterwards subjected; and if at
the time before he went through his fiery
persecutions the human fancies which beset all
young hearts came across him, we at this day
know that these fancies are no sin. But now
he prays in earnest, prays so heartily for himself,
of his own spiritual need and spiritual failings,
that each one of his hearers feels as if a prayer
and a supplication had gone up for each of them.
Even Nattee muttered the few words she knew of
the Lord's Prayer; gibberish though the
disjointed nouns and verbs might be, the poor
creature said them because she was stirred to
unwonted reverence. As for Lois, she rose up
comforted and strengthened, as no special prayers of
Pastor Tappau had ever made her feel. But Faith
was sobbing, sobbing aloud, almost hysterically,
and made no effort to rise, but lay on her
outstretched arms spread out upon the settle. Lois
and Pastor Nolan looked at each other for an
instant. Then Lois said,

"Sir, you must go. My cousin has not been
strong for some time, and doubtless she needs
more quiet than she has had to-day."

Pastor Nolan bowed, and left the house; but
in a moment he returned. Half opening the door,
but without entering, he said,

"I come back to ask if perchance I may call
this evening to inquire how young Mistress
Hickson finds herself?"

But Faith did not hear this; she was sobbing
louder than ever.

"Why did you send him away, Lois? I should
have been better directly, and it is so long since
I have seen him."

She had her face hidden as she uttered these
words, and Lois could not hear them distinctly.
She bent her head down by her cousin's on the
settle, meaning to ask her to repeat what she
had said. But in the irritation of the moment,
and prompted possibly by some incipient jealousy,
Faith pushed Lois away so violently that the
latter was hurt against the hard sharp corner
of the wooden settle. Tears came into her eyes;
not so much because her cheek was bruised, as
because of the surprised pain she felt at this
repulse from the cousin towards whom she was
feeling so warmly and kindly. Just for the
moment Lois was as angry as any child could have
been; but some of the words of Pastor Nolan's
prayer yet rang in her ears, and she thought it
would be a shame if she did not let them sink
into her heart. But she dared not stoop again
to caress Faith, but stood quietly by her,
sorrowfully waiting, until a step at the outer door
caused Faith to rise quickly, and rush into the
kitchen, leaving Lois to bear the brunt of the
new comer. It was Manasseh, returned from
hunting. He had been two days away in
company with other young men out of Salem. It
was almost the only occupation which could
draw him out of his secluded habits. He stopped
suddenly at the door at seeing Lois, and alone, for
she had avoided him of late in every possible way.

"Where is my mother?"

"At a prayer meeting at Pastor Tappau's.
She has taken Prudence. Faith has left the
room this minute. I will call her." And Lois
was going towards the kitchen, when he placed
himself between her and the door.

"Lois," said he, " the time is going by, and
I cannot wait much longer. The visions come
thick upon me, and my sight grows clearer and
clearer. Only this last night, camping out in
the woods, I saw in my soul, between sleeping
and waking, the spirit come and offer thee
two lots, and the colour of the one was white,