then she returned to ber chamber, and I heard
her speaking to Priscilla in grave and sad tones.
After that, we were all passive; even Priscilla was
stolidly resigned. Brother More came over, and
Susannah informed him of the irrevocable lot
which I had drawn; but besought him to refrain
from seeing me that day; and he left me alone
to grow somewhat used to the sense of my
wretchedness.

Early the next morning I returned to Woodbury;
my only consolation being the thought
that my dear father would be set free, and might
live with me in wealth and comfort all the rest of
his life. During the succeeding days I scarcely
left his side, never suffering Brother More to be
alone with me; and morning and night John
Robins or his wife accompanied me to the gate
of the jail, and waited for me to return with them
to their cottage.

My father was to be set free, only on my
wedding-day, and the marriage was hurried on.
Many of Priscilla's store of wedding garments
were suitable for me. Every hour brought my
doom nearer.

One morning, in the gloom and twilight of a
December dawn, I suddenly met Gabriel in my
path. He spake rapidly and earnestly, but I
scarcely knew what he said, and I answered, falteringly:

"I am going to be married to Brother Joshua
More on New Year's-day, and he will then
release my father."

"Eunice," he cried, standing before me in the
narrow path, "you can never marry him. I
know the fat hypocrite. Good Heaven! I love
you a hundred times better than he does. Love!
The rascal does not know what it means."

I answered not a word, for I felt afraid both
of myself and him, though I did not believe
Gabriel to be a wolf in sheep's clothing.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked.

"No," I whispered.

"I am your uncle's nephew by marriage," he
said, "and I have been brought up in his house.
Break off this wicked marriage with the fellow
More, and I will engage to release your father.
I am young, and can work. I will pay your
father's debts."

"It is impossible," I replied. "Brother More
has had a heavenly vision, and I have drawn the
lot. There is no hope. I must marry him upon
New Year's-day."

Then Gabriel persuaded me to tell him the
whole story of my trouble. He laughed a little,
and bade me be of good comfort; and I could
not make him understand how impossible it was
that I should contend against the dispensation
of the lot.

Always when I was with my father I strove
to conceal my misery, talking to him of the
happy days we should spend together some time.
Likewise I sang within the walls of the prison,
the simple hymns which we had been wont to
sing in the peaceful church at school amid a
congregation of serene hearts, and I strengthened
my own heart and my father's by the recollected
counsels of my dear lost pastor. Thus my father
guessed little of my hidden suffering, and looked
forward with hope to the day that would throw
open his prison doors.

Once I went to the pastor, dwelling in Woodbury,
and poured out my heart to him—save that
I made no mention of Gabriel—and he told me
it was often thus with young girls before their
marriage, but that I had a clear leading; he also
told me that Brother More was a devout man,
and I should soon love and reverence him as my
husband.

At length the last day of the year came; a
great day among our people, when we drew our
lot for the following year. Everything seemed
at an end. All hope fled from me, if there ever
had been any hope in my heart. I left my father
early in the evening, for I could no longer conceal
my wretchedness; yet when I was outside
the prison walls I wandered to and fro, hovering
about it, as if these days, miserable as they had
been, were happy to those which were drawing
near. Brother More had not been near us all day,
but doubtless he was busy in his arrangements
to release my father. I was still lingering under
the great walls, when a carriage drove up
noiselessly—for the ground was sprinkled with soft
snow—and Gabriel sprang out, and almost
clasped me in his arms.

"My dear Eunice," he said, "you must come
with me at once. Our uncle will save you from
this hateful marriage."

I do not know what I should have done had
not John Robins called out from the driver's
seat, "All right, Miss Eunice; remember John
Robins."

Upon that I left myself in Gabriel's hands, and
he lifted me into the carriage, wrapping warm
coverings about me. It seemed to me no other
than a happy dream, as we drove noiselessly
along snowy roads, with the pale wan light of
the young moon falling upon the white country,
and now and then shining upon the face of Gabriel,
as he leaned forward from time to time to
draw the wrappers closer round me.

We might have been three hours on the way,
when we turned into a by-road, which presently I
recognised as the deep lane wherein I had first
met Gabriel. We were going then to my uncle's
house. So with a lightened heart I stepped out
of the carriage, and entered his doors for the
second time.

Gabriel conducted me into the parlour which
I had seen before, and placed me in a chair upon
the hearth, removing my shawl and bonnet with
a pleasant and courteous care; and he was standing
opposite to me, regarding me with a smile
upon his handsome face, when the door opened
and my uncle entered.

"Come and kiss me, Eunice," he said; and I
obeyed him wonderingly.

"Child," he continued, stroking my hair back
from my face, "you would not come to me of
your own will, so I commissioned this young