sponded Telly at once, looking
curiously at him.

"Oh, no; I hope not," he answered, smiling, "I try to do as I would be
done by, but the good people here might think I was, maybe, because I am
not a professor of religion. For that reason I should be classed as one
of the sinners, I presume."

"Well, so is father," responded Telly, "but that doesn't make him one.
Deacon Oaks calls him a scoffer, but I know he trusts him in all money
matters, and I think father is the best and kindest man in the world. He
has been so good and kind to me I would almost lie down and die for him,
if necessary."

It was an expression of feeling that was not surprising to Albert,
knowing as he did her history, but he felt it unwise to discuss it. "How
do you feel about this matter of belief?" he asked after a pause. "Are
you what this old lady would call a believer, Miss Terry?"

"Oh, no," she replied slowly, "I fear I am not. I always go to meeting
Sundays when there is one,--mother and I,--and once in a while to the
Thursday evening prayer-meeting. I think it's because I enjoy the
singing."

When they reached the point Albert could not restrain his desire to
enjoy the society of this unaffected, simple, and beautiful girl a
little longer. The moon that Frank had planned to use was high overhead,
and away out over the still ocean stretched a broadening path of silvery
sheen, while at their feet, where the ground swells were breaking upon
the rocks, every splash of foam looked like snow-white wool.

"If it's not asking too much, Miss Terry," said Albert with utmost
politeness, "won't you walk out to the top of the cliff and sit down a
few moments, while I enjoy a cigar? The night is too beautiful to turn
away from at once."

Telly, nothing loath perhaps, assented, and they took possession of the
rustic seat where Albert had listened to her history the night before.
Perhaps a little of its pathos came to him now as he watched her sweet
face while she gazed far out to seaward and to where the swells were
breaking over a low, half-submerged ledge. And what a flood of new and
bewitching emotions came to him as he watched his fair companion, all
unconscious of his scrutiny!--and with them, a sudden and keen interest
to unravel the mystery of her parentage, and the hope that some time he
might do it. He also felt an unaccountable desire to tell her that he
knew her pathetic story, and to express his interest in it and his
sympathy for her,