George came. Then the service began, and I
knew that, punctual as his habits were, it was
of no use to expect him any longer. Where
could he be? What could have happened?
"Why should Leah Payne never come to chapel
again? Had she gone over to some other sect,
and was that why George seemed so unhappy?

Sitting there in the little dreary churchyard
with the darkness fast gathering around me, I
asked myself these questions over and over
again, till my brain ached; for I was not much
used to thinking about anything in those times.
At last, I could bear to sit quiet no longer. The
sudden thought struck me that I would go to
Leah, and learn what the matter was, from her
own lips. I sprang to my feet, and set off at
once towards her home.

It was quite dark, and a light rain was
beginning to fall. I found the garden-gate open,
and a quick hope flashed across me that
George might be there. I drew back for a
moment, hesitating whether to knock or ring,
when a sound of voices in the passage, and the
sudden gleaming of a bright line of light under
the door, warned me that some one was coming
out. Taken by surprise, and quite unprepared
for the moment with anything to say, I shrank
back behind the porch, and waited until those
within should have passed out. The door
opened, and the light streamed suddenly upon
the roses and the wet gravel.

"It rains," said Leah, bending forward and
shading the candle with her hand.

"And is as cold as Siberia," added another
voice, which was not George's, and yet sounded
strangely familiar. " Ugh! what a climate for
such a flower as my darling to bloom in!"

"Is it so much finer in France?" asked Leah,
softly.

"As much finer as blue skies and sunshine
can make it. Why, my angel, even your bright
eyes will be ten times brighter, and your rosy
cheeks ten times rosier, when they are
transplanted to Paris. Ah! I can give you no idea
of the wonders of Paris—the broad streets
planted with trees, the palaces, the shops, the
gardens!—it is a city of enchantment."

"It must be, indeed!" said Leah. " And you
will really take me to see all those beautiful
shops?"

"Every Sunday, my darling—Bah! don't
look so shocked. The shops in Paris are always
open on Sunday, and everybody makes holiday.
You will soon get over these prejudices."

"I fear it is very wrong to take so much
pleasure in the things of this world," sighed
Leah.

The Frenchman laughed, and answered her
with a kiss.

"Good night, my sweet little saint!" and
he ran lightly down the path, and disappeared
in the darkness. Leah sighed again, lingered a
moment, and then closed the door.

Stupified and bewildered, I stood for some
seconds like a stone statue, unable to move;
scarcely able to think. At length, I roused
myself, as it were mechanically, and went towards
the gate. At that instant, a heavy hand was
laid upon my shoulder, and a hoarse voice close
beside my ear, said:

'' Who are you? What are you doing here?"

It was George. I knew him at once, in spite
of the darkness, and stammered his name. He
took his hand quickly from my shoulder.

"How long have you been here?" said he,
fiercely. " What right have you to lurk about,
like a spy in the dark? God help me, Ben—
I'm half mad. I don't mean to be harsh to you."

"I'm sure you don't," I cried, earnestly.

"It's that cursed Frenchman," he went on, in
a voice that sounded like the groan of one in
pain. " He's a villain. I know he's a villain;
and I've had a warning against him ever since
the first moment he came among us. He'll
make her miserable, and break her heart some
day—my pretty Leah—and I loved her so!
But I'll be revenged as sure as there's a sun
in heaven, I'll be revenged!"

His vehemence terrified me. I tried to
persuade him to go home; but he would not listen
to me.

"No, no," he said. " Go home yourself,
boy, and let me be. My blood is on fire: this
rain is good for me, and I am better alone."

"If I could only do something to help
you—"

"You can't," interrupted he. " Nobody can
help me. I'm a ruined man, and I don't care
what becomes of me. The Lord forgive me!
my heart is full of wickedness, and my thoughts
are the promptings of Satan. There go—for
Heaven's sake, go. I don't know what I say,
or what I do!"

I went, for I did not dare refuse any longer;
but I lingered awhile at the corner of the street,
and watched him pacing to and fro, to and fro
in the driving rain. At length I turned
reluctantly away, and went home.

I lay awake that night for hours, thinking
over the events of the day, and hating the
Frenchman from my very soul. I could not
hate Leah. I had worshipped her too long
and too faithfully for that; but I looked upon,
her as a creature given over to destruction.
I fell asleep towards morning, and woke again
shortly after daybreak. When I reached the
pottery, I found George there before me, looking
very pale, but quite himself, and setting the men
to their work the same as usual. I said nothing
about what had happened the day before.
Something in his face silenced me; but seeing him,
so steady and composed, I took heart, and began
to hope he had fought through the worst of his
trouble. By-and-by the Frenchman came through,
the yard, gay and off-hand, with his cigar in
his mouth, and his hands in his pockets. George
turned sharply away into one of the workshops,
and shut the door. I drew a deep breath of
relief. My dread was to see them come to an
open quarrel; and I felt that as long as they
kept clear of that, all would be well.

Thus the Monday went by, and the Tuesday;
and still George kept aloof from me. I had
sense enough not to be hurt by this. I felt he