oor. He watched her for an instant and then stepped
quickly after her. The black gown and the tired look in her eyes touched
him to the heart. He could not let her go without a word.

She turned at the sound of his step behind her.

"Er--Miss Van Horne," he stammered, "I merely wanted to tell you how
deeply I--we all feel for you in your trouble. I--I--I am so sorry."

"Thank you," she said simply, and after a moment's hesitation.

"I mean it sincerely. I--I did not know Captain Hammond very well, but
I respected and liked him the first time we met. I shall hope
that--that--it is not so serious as they fear."

"Thank you," she said again. "We are all hoping."

"Yes. I--I--" It was dreadfully hard to get words together. "I have
heard so much of the captain from--"

"From Aunt Keziah? Yes, she was Nat's warmest friend."

"I know. Er--Mrs. Coffin tells me you are going away. I hope you may
hear good news and soon. I shall think of you--of him--I want you to
understand that I shall."

The door opened and Emeline Berry appeared on the threshold.

"Come right in, Grace," she called. "Mrs. Prince wants you to. She's
ahollerin' for you to hurry up."

"Good-by," said the minister.

"Good-by. Thank you again. It was very kind of you to say this."

"No, no. I mean it."

"I know; that was why it was so kind. Good-by."

She held out her hand and he took it. He knew that his was trembling,
but so, too, was hers. The hands fell apart. Grace entered the house and
John Ellery went out at the gate.

That night Keziah, in the sitting room, trying to read, but finding
it hard to keep her mind on the book, heard her parson pacing back and
forth over the straw-matted floor of his chamber. She looked at
the clock; it was nearly twelve. She shut the book and sighed. Her
well-meant words of consolation had been a mistake, after all. She
should not have spoken Grace Van Horne's name.

CHAPTER XVI

IN WHICH THE MINISTER BOARDS THE SAN JOSE

"Hey, Mr. Ellery!"

It was Captain Zeb Mayo who was calling. The captain sat in his antique
chaise, drawn by the antique white horse, and was hailing the parsonage
through a speaking trumpet formed by holding both his big hands before
his mouth. The reins he had tucked between the edge of the dashboard and
the whip socket. If he had thrown them on the ground he would still have
been perfectly safe, with that horse.

"Mr. Ellery, ahoy!" roared Captain Zeb through his hands.

The