what we don't like is
our duty."

She said this without looking at him, and the expression on her face was
the same sad, grave one he had noticed when he first saw her standing
alone by the pine.

"Why don't you come?" he persisted.

"I can't, of course. You know I can't."

"Why not? If my company is objectionable I can go away when you come. If
you dislike me I--"

"You know I don't dislike you personally."

"I'm awfully glad of that."

"But it's impossible. Uncle respects and is fond of Aunt Keziah, but he
wouldn't hear of my visiting the parsonage."

"But don't you think your uncle might be persuaded? I'm sure he
misunderstands me, just as I should him if it weren't for Mrs.
Coffin--and what you've said. Don't you think if I called on him and he
knew me better it might help matters? I'll do it gladly. I will!"

"No, no. He wouldn't listen. And think of your own congregation."

"Confound my congregation!"

"Why, Mr. Ellery!"

She looked at him in amazement; then her lips began to curl.

"Why, Mr. Ellery!" she repeated.

The minister turned very red and drew his hand across his forehead.

"I--I don't mean that exactly," he stammered. "But I'm not a child. I
have the right to exercise a man's discretion. My parish committee must
understand that. They shall! If I choose to see you--Look out!"

She was close to the overhanging edge of the bluff and the sod upon
which she stood was bending beneath her feet. He sprang forward, caught
her about the waist, and pulled her back. The sod broke and rattled down
the sandy slope. She would have had a slight tumble, nothing worse, had
she gone with it. There was no danger; and yet the minister was very
white as he released her.

She, too, was pale for a moment, and then crimson.

"Thank you," she gasped. "I--I must go. It is late. I didn't realize how
late it was. I--I must go."

He did not answer, though he tried to.

"I must go," she said hurriedly, speaking at random. "Good afternoon.
Good-by. I hope you will enjoy your walk."

"I have enjoyed it." His answer was unstudied but emphatic. She
recognized the emphasis.

"Will you come to see Mrs. Coffin?" he asked.

"No, no. You know I can't. Good-by. The sunset is beautiful, isn't it?"

"Beautiful, indeed."

"Yes. I--I think the sunsets from this point are the finest I have ever
seen. I come here every Sunday afternoon to see them."

This remark was given merely to cover embarrassment, but it had an