h, they ask, 'Are you in the employ of
the accused?' And if one answers 'Yes,' his testimony doesn't amount to
much, good or bad. So we must keep Fidelis, do you understand! Hush!
Who's knocking?"

Tobias opened the gate and greeted the pastor, whom he told that
Landolin had already been taken away, and that his wife was in the
house. The pastor went to the living-room, where he found the farmer's
wife with an open prayer-book in her hand. He commended her for this,
and said that he would have been there earlier, but had returned from
the fair only an hour before, and had gone to "Cushion Kate's" first.
He strove to comfort her, reminding her that man must bow to the will
of Heaven.

The clergyman, a tall, hard-featured man, was the youngest son of a
rich farmer. He was brusque in his intercourse with his people, but
mingled little with them--election-time excepted--for he knew this
conduct pleased the farmers best. In summertime the pastor was all day
long by the brook in the valley, fishing. In the winter-time he stayed
at home, and no one knew what he did.

"Oh, sir!" said the farmer's wife, mournfully, "people don't know how
much they love each other until something like this happens." She
blushed like a young girl, and continued: "Children live for
themselves; but married people----it seems to me that I have done wrong
in not letting my husband see how much----"

Her emotion would not allow her to continue. The pastor consoled her by
saying that she had always been an honest woman, and a good wife; that
God would ward off this evil from her; and that this misfortune would
redound to her lasting welfare. He was astonished that this woman, whom
people generally considered shallow, could show such deep affection.

"How does Thoma bear it?" he asked.

"I will call her," she answered.

She went out and soon returned with Thoma, who looked so careworn, that
for a moment the pastor could say nothing. He soon, however, endeavored
to comfort her.

"Herr Pastor," began Thoma, "what do you think about it? I don't know.
I think I must go to Cushion-Kate's."

"Wait till to-morrow morning," interrupted her mother.

"No, I think I must go to-day."

"Yes! do so," said the pastor approvingly, "I have just come from her
house. She did not show by word or sign that she heard what I said. She
sits motionless on the floor beside her dead boy. Come, you can go a
part of the way with me."

Thoma and the pastor walked side