"Whom God hath j'ined, let no man put
asundah;" peace, or at best, apparent peace, settled upon the troubled
waters.

The solidity of Mt. Pisgah was assured, the two factions again spoke to
each other, both gave collections on the same Sunday; but between the
two principals there was no abatement of their relentless animosity.

Ann Pease as it happened was a "puffessor," while the new Mrs. Pease was
out of the fold; a gay, frivolous person who had never sought or found
grace. She laughed when a black wag said of the two that "they might
bofe be 'peas,' but dey wasn't out o' de same pod." But on its being
repeated to Sister Pease, she resented it with Christian indignation,
sniffed and remarked that "Ef Wi'yum choosed to pick out one o' de
onregenerate an' hang huh ez a millstone erroun' his neck, it wasn't
none o' huh bus'ness what happened to him w'en dey pulled up de tares
f'om de wheat."

There were some ultra-malicious ones who said that Sister Pease, seeing
her former husband in the possession of another, had begun to regret her
step, for the unregenerate William was good-looking after all, and the
"times" that he and his equally sinful wife had together were the wonder
and disgust, the envy and horror of the whole community, who watched
them with varying moods of eagerness.

Sister Ann Pease went her way apparently undisturbed. Religion has an
arrogance of its own, and when at the end of the year the good widow
remained unmarried she could toss her head, go her way, and look down
from a far height upon the "po' sinnahs"; indeed, she had rather the
better of her frailer sister in the sympathies of the people.

As one sister feelingly remarked, "Dat ooman des baihin' dat man in huh
prayahs, an' I 'low she'll mou'n him into glory yit."

One year of married life disillusions, and defiant gaiety cannot live
upon itself when admiration fails. There is no reward in being daring
when courage becomes commonplace. The year darkened to winter, and
bloomed to spring again. The willows feathered along the river banks,
and the horse-chestnuts budded and burst into beautiful life. Then came
summer, rejoicing, with arms full of flowers, and autumn with lap full
of apples and grain, then winter again, and all through the days Nancy
danced and was gay, but there was a wistfulness in her eyes, and the tug
of the baby no longer drew her heart. She had come to be "Wi'yum's
Nancy," while the other, _that_ other was still "Sister