"I have been praying for her in the night
many a time," said Lois, in a low voice. "I
pray for her in my heart at this moment; I
suppose they are bidden to put her out of the
land, but I would not have her entirely God-
forsaken. But, sir, you have not read my
cousin's letter. And she bade me bring back an
answer with much urgency."

Still he delayed. He was thinking of the
dreadful confession he came from hearing. If
it were true, the beautiful earth was a polluted
place, and he almost wished to die, to escape
from such pollution, into the white innocence
of those who stood in the presence of God.

Suddenly his eyes fell on Lois's pure, grave
face, upturned and watching his. Faith in
earthly goodness came over his soul in that
instant, "and he blessed her unaware."

He put his hand on her shoulder with an
action half paternal—although the difference in
their ages was not above a dozen years—and,
bending a little towards her, whispered half to
himself, "Mistress Barclay, I thank you; you
have done me good."

"I," said Lois, half affrighted—"I done you
good! How?"

"By being what you are. But perhaps I
should rather thank God, who sent you at the
very moment when my soul was so disquieted."

At this instant they were aware of Faith
standing in front of them, with a countenance of
thunder. Her angry look made Lois feel guilty.
She had not enough urged the pastor to read his
letter, she thought; and it was indignation at
this delay in what she had been commissioned
to do with the urgency of life or death, that
made her cousin lower at her so from beneath
her straight black brows. Lois explained how
she had not found Mr. Nolan at his lodgings,
and had had to follow him to the door of the
gaol. But Faith replied, with obdurate contempt,

"Spare thy breath, Cousin Lois. It is easy
seeing on what pleasant matters thou and the
Pastor Nolan were talking. I marvel not at
thy forgetfulness. My mind is changed. Give
me back my letter, sir; it was about a poor
matter—an old woman's life. And what is that
compared to a young girl's love?"

Lois heard but for an instant; did not understand
that her cousin, in her jealous anger,
could suspect the existence of such a feeling as
love between her and Mr. Nolan. No imagination
as to its possibility had ever entered her
mind; she had respected him, almost revered
him—nay, had liked him as the probable husband
of Faith. At the thought that her cousin
could believe her guilty of such treachery her
grave eyes dilated, and fixed themselves on the
flaming countenance of Faith. That serious
unprotesting manner of perfect innocence must
have told on her accuser, had it not been that
at the same instant the latter caught sight of
the crimsoned and disturbed countenance of the
pastor, who felt the veil rent off the unconscious
secret of his heart. Faith snatched her letter
out of his hands, and said,

"Let the witch hang! What care I? She
has done harm enough with her charms and her
sorcery on Pastor Tappan's girls. Let her
die, and let all other witches look to themselves;
for there be many kinds of witchcraft abroad.
Cousin Lois, thou wilt like best to stop with
Paster Nolan, or I would pray thee to come
back with me to breakfast."

Lois was not to be daunted by jealous sarcasm.
She held out her hand to Pastor Nolan,
determined to take no heed of her cousin's mad
words, but to bid him farewell in her accustomed
manner. He hesitated before taking it, and
when he did, it was with a convulsive squeeze t
hat almost made her start. Faith waited and
watched all with set lips and vengeful eyes.
She bade no farewell; she spake no word; but
grasping Lois tightly by the back of the arm,
she almost drove her before her down the street
till they reached their home.

The arrangement for the morning was this:
Grace Hickson and her son Manasseh were to
be present at the hanging of the first witch
executed in Salem, as pious and godly heads of
a family. All the other members were strictly
forbidden to stir out until such time as the
low-tolling bell announced that all was over in
this world for Hota, the Indian witch. When the
execution was ended, there was to be a solemn
prayer-meeting of all the inhabitants of Salem;
ministers had come from a distance to aid by the
efficacy of their prayers in these efforts to purge
the land of the devil and his servants. There
was reason to think that the great old meeting
house would be crowded, and when Faith and
Lois reached home, Grace Hickson was giving
her directions to Prudence, urging her to be
ready for an early start to that place. The stern
old woman was troubled in her mind at the
anticipation of the sight she was to see before
many minutes were over, and spoke in a more
hurried and incoherent manner than was her
wont. She was dressed in her Sunday best;
but her face was very grey and colourless, and
she seemed afraid to cease speaking about
household affairs for fear she should have time
to think. Manasseh stood by her, perfectly,
rigidly still; he also was in his Sunday clothes.
His face, too, was paler than its wont, but it
wore a kind of absent, rapt expression almost
like that of a man who sees a vision. As Faith
entered, still holding Lois in her fierce grasp,
Manasseh started and smiled; but still dreamily.
His manner was so peculiar, that even his
mother stayed her talking to observe him more
closely; he was in that state of excitement
which usually ended in what his mother and
certain of her friends esteemed a prophetic
revelation. He began to speak, at first low,
and then his voice increased in power:

"How beautiful is the laud of Beulah, far
over the sea, beyond the mountains. Thither
the angels carry her, lying back in their arms
like one fainting. They shall kiss away the black
circle of death, and lay her down at the feet of
the Lamb. I hear her pleading there for those
on earth who consented to her death. Lois!
pray also for me, pray for me, miserable!"