ore than once been sought in marriage, but
had steadily, though kindly, refused. Once, when the suitor was a
man whose character and position made the union very desirable in Eli
Mitchenor's eyes, he ventured to use his paternal influence. Asenath's
gentle resistance was overborne by his arbitrary force of will, and her
protestations were of no avail.

"Father," she finally said, in the tone which he had once heard and
still remembered, "thee can take away, but thee cannot give."

He never mentioned the subject again.

Richard Hilton passed out of her knowledge shortly after her meeting
with him in Philadelphia. She heard, indeed, that his headlong career
of dissipation was not arrested,--that his friends had given him up as
hopelessly ruined,--and, finally, that he had left the city. After
that, all reports ceased. He was either dead, or reclaimed and leading
a better life, somewhere far away. Dead, she believed--almost hoped; for
in that case might he not now be enjoying the ineffable rest and peace
which she trusted might be her portion? It was better to think of him
as a purified spirit, waiting to meet her in a holier communion, than to
know that he was still bearing the burden of a soiled and blighted
life. In any case, her own future was plain and clear. It was simply a
prolongation of the present--an alternation of seed-time and harvest,
filled with humble duties and cares, until the Master should bid her lay
down her load and follow Him.

Friend Mitchenor bought a small cottage adjacent to his son's farm, in a
community which consisted mostly of Friends, and not far from the large
old meeting-house in which the Quarterly Meetings were held. He at once
took his place on the upper seat, among the elders, most of whom he knew
already, from having met them, year after year, in Philadelphia. The
charge of a few acres of ground gave him sufficient occupation; the
money left to him after the sale of his farm was enough to support him
comfortably; and a late Indian summer of contentment seemed now to have
come to the old man. He was done with the earnest business of life.
Moses was gradually taking his place, as father and Friend; and Asenath
would be reasonably provided for at his death. As his bodily energies
decayed, his imperious temper softened, his mind became more accessible
to liberal influences, and he even cultivated a cordial friendship
with a neighboring farmer who was one of "the world's people." Thus,