dn't." He told his wife that
he was worried over a piece of business, and as business was the
awe-inspiring word of the household, she stood aloof from him, in
nervous sympathy with his worry; and the negro servants spoke in
whispers. From her walk her daughter had returned in a solemn state of
mind. Her manner, which had been growing gentler, was now touched with
a winsome melancholy, and her eyes appeared to be larger and dreamier.
Of late an old minister, who for nearly half a century had worn a
tinkling bell in the midst of a devoted flock, had called frequently
to talk to her, and in her smile the old man saw the spirit of
religion, though not of one creed, but the heart's religion of the
past, of the present, of Eternity.

Mrs. McElwin went up to Eva's room, leaving her husband to continue
his troubled walk. The girl was sitting at the window. "Come in," she
said.

"I'm worried about your father," said Mrs. McElwin, sitting down with
a sigh. "Have you said anything to annoy him?"

"No, nothing that I can remember."

"Well, something has happened. Have you seen--seen Mr. Lyman since the
evening of the picnic? You told me that you saw him then, but you
haven't told me of seeing him since. And I don't dare tell your
father."

"No, for you promised me that you wouldn't."

"But have you kept your promise to me? You told me you would tell me
if you met him again."

"Yes, and I will keep my word. I met him today, over by the creek, and
we sat down under a tree and talked. And, oh, his voice almost made me
sob as I sat there, listening to him."

"Eva," said her mother.

"I can't help it. His life has been so hard, and yet it has made him
so considerate and so gentle. Mother, why haven't I met such a man
among our friends--why didn't I see one in my travels?"

"My daughter, can't you understand the strange interest you take in
him? Have you considered the circumstances--"

"I have considered everything, and it would have been the same no
matter where we might have met. Mother," she said, turning with a
smile, more than sad in the dim light, "do you know that old log cabin
over on the hill where the pension woman used to live? Yes, for we
could see it from here in daylight. I passed there today, coming home,
and I stopped and gazed at the wretched place, and suddenly there came
a thought that almost took my breath away. I thought that with him--"
she leaned over and took her mother's hand--"that with him I co