afters had ceased, and,
after carefully examining the floor for spiders, mice, and other
creeping things, brushed away a few fallen leaves and twigs from the top
of the harmonium. Then, with her long curls tossed over her shoulders
and hanging limply down the back of her new maple-leaf yellow
frock,--which was also a timid recognition of Brother Seabright's
return,--and her brown eyes turned to the rafters, this rustic St.
Cecilia of the Coast Range began to sing. The shell of the little
building dilated with the melody; the sashes of the windows pulsated,
the two ejected linnets joined in timidly from their coign of vantage in
the belfry outside, and the limp vines above the porch swayed like her
curls. Once she thought she heard stealthy footsteps without; once she
was almost certain she felt the brushing of somebody outside against the
thin walls of the chapel, and once she stopped to glance quickly at the
window with a strange instinct that some one was looking at her. But she
quickly reflected that Brother Seabright would come there only when the
deacons did, and with them. Why she should think that it was Brother
Seabright, or why Brother Seabright should come thus and at such a time,
she could not have explained.

He did not, in fact, make his appearance until later, and after the
congregation had quite filled the chapel; he did not, moreover, appear
to notice her as she sat there, and when he gave out the hymn he
seemed to have quietly overlooked the new harmonium. She sang her best,
however, and more than one of the audience thought that "little Sister
Appleby" had greatly improved. Indeed, it would not have seemed strange
to some--remembering Brother Seabright's discursive oratory--if he had
made some allusion to it. But he did not. His heavy eyes moved slowly
over the congregation, and he began.

As usual he did not take a text. But he would talk to them that morning
about "The Conviction of Sin" and the sense of wrong-doing that was
innate in the sinner. This included all form of temptation, for what
was temptation but the inborn consciousness of something to struggle
against, and that was sin! At this apparently concise exposition of
her own feelings in regard to Don Eliseo's offer, Cissy felt herself
blushing to the roots of her curls. Could it be possible that Brother
Seabright had heard of her temptation to leave West Woodlands, and
that this warning was intended for her? He did not even look in her
di