sake; then
no other face would blot out hers. What her life would be she could not
picture, but it would not be a life without him.

The service over, she walked with her mother and sister among the cabins
that Ellen so loved. The people standing outside their doorways were
dressed in their best and a pleasant Sunday air pervaded the place.
Every one was decorous, and yet with an undercurrent of jollity; for the
sermon had stirred their imaginations, and ahead was a good dinner.
Uncle Ebenezer talked with authority of Elijah and eagerly awaited the
preacher's presence that he might discuss his theory of the color of the
mantle of the prophet. "It were white as de wool ob de Lamb," he
declaimed as he saw the man of God in his long black coat walking up to
him. "Jes' riccolec', Brudder, de waters dat it smote apart an' dat wash
it whiter'n snow." Aunt Lucindy was on ahead, a little boy's hand in
hers, a waif for whom she was caring; for, though old and frail, Aunt
Lucindy was always mothering some child. One of Ellen's pupils walked
proudly at his teacher's side, carrying her Bible. "I knows what I's
gwine ter be when I grows up, teacher," he said. "I's gwine ter be a
preacher; I's gwine ter preach de word o' God." "I hope you will,
Joshua," Ellen answered, "but remember you must first practise what you
preach." "Yes'm, I know dat;" and then, proudly, "I's practising ter
pray an' holler right now. I can holler as good as Aunt Lucindy when she
gits happy." Mammy had gone ahead to visit Granny Rose, who was too
feeble to attend church. It was all usual to Hertha; she had seen such
Sundays without comment all her life. She let the scene slip by as she
tried to make her choice.

On one of the cabin steps sat an untidy, ragged girl who turned and went
inside as she saw Ellen draw near. Maranthy, Sam Peter's daughter, was
one of Ellen's failures. She was a bold, ignorant young woman of
eighteen, who worked as little as she could and, brazenly open in her
ways, strove to allure the growing boys whom their teacher was training
in health and cleanliness and decent living. She looked maliciously at
both the sisters as she went within her house.

Slipping away from her sister, Hertha sought one of the little paths in
the sand that led toward the river. It brought her out behind the small,
ecclesiastical-looking church at which the white people worshiped.
Stopping to listen, she could hear Mr. Merryvale's voice through the
open w