y nudged one another and
giggled as they saw Lyman approaching. He pretended not to notice
them, going straightway into the church. Most of the pews were free,
and he sat down about the middle of the house and began carefully to
look about over the congregation. A strange feeling possessed him, and
he looked back with a thrill when he heard the rustle of skirts in the
doorway. At last he saw her and he thought that Zeb Sawyer came with
her to the door. The banker and his stately wife came in, but Lyman
had no eye for them. He sat almost in a trance, gazing at the young
woman as she walked slowly down the opposite aisle. She reminded him
of a peach tree blooming in the early spring, there was so much pink
and the rich color of cream about her. She sat down not far from him
and he gazed at the silk-brown hair on the back of her neck. Once she
looked around but her eye did not rest on him. She sang with the
congregation, and he selected a sweet tone for her voice, and smiled
afterward to discover that it was in the voice of a plain woman seated
near her. Some one sat down beside him, and he was surprised to find
Caruthers.

The lawyer was surprised too, and he made a motion as if to move away.

"Never mind," whispered Lyman, "stay where you are."

"Thank you," Caruthers whispered in turn. "I didn't know but that fog
was still between us."

"It is, and that's the reason we didn't recognize each other sooner."

"Then I'd better move."

"It is not necessary. I can stand it if you can."

"All right. Deuce of an affair you've got into."

"Yes, rather out of the ordinary."

"Has the old man offered you money to turn loose?"

"He offered to lend me a small sum."

"Why don't you make him give you a big sum?"

"Because I am not a scoundrel."

"No. Because you are weak. I would."

"Yes," Lyman whispered. "Because you are a scoundrel."

"Don't say that to me."

"Sit over there," said Lyman.

Caruthers moved away, and Lyman sat gazing at the young woman. "I am
going to be of service to her," he mused. "And one of these days when
she finds herself really in love she will thank me. She is dazzling,
but I don't believe I could love her. I don't believe she has very
much sense. She looks like a painting. I'd like to see her in an
empire gown. I wonder what she thinks of me. Perhaps she doesn't." He
smiled at himself, and then became aware that the preacher was in the
heated midst of his sermon.

While the congregat