ee."

"How?"

"Thee has thy language, friend--I have mine. I do not stop to say 'you'
to thee because thy mode is not as mine: then thee might be as free with
me, and say 'you' to me, just as thee would if my plain garb were changed
for a Joseph's coat."

"I thought I was polite in doing it," said she.

"Thank thee. Thee may be that, but thee is scarcely truthful; and all due
politeness, as thee terms it, must be truthful, or it is called deceit."

She understood me, and she was natural thereafter.

Now perhaps I chafed in spirit at this time because I heard no word from
friend Hicks. I am convinced at this present moment that had he felt it
borne in upon him to indite me some words of homely comfort, I should have
been gratified exceedingly. But his mind lay otherwise presumably, for no
word came for a week.

Once during that week I saw friend Jordan walking wearisomely along the
passage-way of friend Afton's house. She gave me a quick look as she saw
me ascending the stair. "Ishmael!" she said.

"Nay," I responded: "no man's hand is against me, nor is mine against any
man."

"And yet I am Hagar weeping in the wilderness."

"I pity thee."

"You are a Quaker."

"I am a Friend."

"And you believe in God?"

"Yea, verily. The voice of the Lord in the vineyard calleth me ever."

"Fool! There is no God."

"Nay, I am no fool. 'The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God.'
And I never say that."

"I used to think that, but God has taken away my life, and left me the
life of the damned."

"The Lord taketh no man's life: He giveth, and man destroyeth."

"I like you, Quaker. You don't say 'Never mind,' and give me right in all
I say. Yes, I like you, Quaker."

"I thank thee, friend," I said, and passed by her and entered my room.

As time went on I grew accustomed to hearing her at all hours of the night
repeating passages from the Scriptures, and misapplying their calm
greatness. I could hear her open her window, and could see from mine that
she stood there talking to the stars, and asking them where was the woman
that had been she, and where was her own dear love and unalterable
affection? I could see that she wept often, and that the tears ran down
her white wan face all pinched by suffering, and that she supplicated the
night in tender words to bring back to her what had gone away--what had
gone away!

I was alone in this place: the people were not such as would be my choice
of companions, f