ifting
wonders are occurring yonder. Your leisure moments should be employed
in pious meditation, or in repenting of your sins."

Too much agitated by the revelation which had just come to him to
answer her light banter, he walked silently by her side. She, surprised
by his silence, glanced into his face. What she saw there arrested her
footsteps and brought a startled look into her eyes. For a moment they
stood still in the pathway, gazing into each other's faces--soul
revealed to soul in the look. Then her eyes fell, a trembling seized
her, and a wave of crimson swept over cheeks and brow and throat. In a
voice hoarse with feeling, he exclaimed, "Betty! Betty!" and stretched
out his arms toward her. Tremblingly she threw out her hands as though
to repel his approach; and then, turning from him, ran down the path
toward the encampment.

Abner was in no mood for the noise and excitement of the "revival"; so
he turned aside into a ravine where many of the campers' horses were
tethered. Here he encountered Henry, to whom he said abruptly, saddling
his mare as he spoke, "I'm sick of all this; I'm going for a gallop."

"It's a pity to miss to-night's service," Henry answered. "The camp
breaks up to-morrow."

"No matter," Dudley replied as he sprang into the saddle. "I'm off
now."

"Better take a snack before you go. You must be hungry," called Henry,
but Dudley, already beyond the ravine, gave no heed.

In his overwrought mood hunger and slumber were equally impossible, and
the quiet of his attic room would have been as intolerable as the glare
of the torchlights and the singing, shouting, and wild ravings of the
encampment. He rode on and on through the moonlight, over hills and
fields and roads, until his mare, flecked with foam, was breathing
uneasily. Then he allowed the reins to drop loosely over her neck, and
rode slowly back until he reached his own unfinished cabin. But the air
of the unused house was oppressive, and the walls seemed to stifle him.
Freeing the mare of saddle and bridle, and turning her out to graze, he
threw himself down on the sward in front of the house. Even then he
could not sleep, but for a long time lay gazing into the clear,
star-studded sky; for the sudden broadening of the perspective of his
future kept him wide awake. He wondered at his long blindness, and with
an agony of uncertainty questioned whether Betsy's sympathetic
comprehension of his old feeling for her cousin might not