uncle in the kitchen. He entered--his
broad face grave and anxious and grieved--but instantly fled, though I
beckoned; for Parson Lute, overcome, it may be, by the impiety of
Elizabeth, was upon his knees, fervently praying that the misguided
soul might yet by some miraculous manifestation of grace be restored
to propriety of view and of feeling. 'Twas a heartfelt prayer offered
in faith, according to the enlightenment of the man--a confession of
ignorance, a plea of human weakness, a humble, anxious cry for divine
guidance that the woman might be plucked as a brand from the burning,
to the glory of the Lord God Most Tender and Most High. Came, in the
midst of it, a furious outburst; the wind rose--achieved its utmost
pitch of power. I looked out: Whisper Cove, low between the black
barriers, was churned white; and beyond--concealed by the night--the
sea ran tumultuously. 'Twas a big, screaming wind, blowing in from the
sea, unopposed by tree or hill. The cottage trembled to the gusts; the
timbers complained; the lamp fluttered in the draught. Great waves,
rolling in from the open, were broken on the rocks of Whisper Cove.
Rain and spray, driven by the gale, drummed on the roof and rattled
like hail on the window. And above this angry clamor of wind and sea
rose the wailing, importunate prayer for the leading of the God of us
all....

* * * * *

When the parson had got to his feet again, Aunt Esther All diffidently
touched his elbow. "Nicholas have come, sir," said she.

"Nicholas?"

"Ay; the man she've sent for."

Elizabeth caught the news. "I wants un," she wheezed. "Go 'way,
parson! I wants a word along o' Nicholas all alone."

"She've a secret, sir," Aunt Esther whispered.

Judith moved towards the door; but the parson beckoned her back, and
she stood doubtfully.

"Mister Top! Mister Top!" Elizabeth called, desperate to help herself,
to whom no heed was given.

In the fury of the gale--the rush past of wind and rain--the failing
voice was lost.

"I 'low," Aunt Esther warned, "'twould be wise, sir--"

"Have the man wait in the kitchen."

Elizabeth lay helplessly whimpering.

"But, sir," Aunt Esther protested, "she've--"

"Have the man wait in the kitchen," the parson impatiently repeated.
"There is no time now for these worldly arrangements. No, no!" said
he. "There is no time. The woman _must_ be convicted!" He was changed:
despondency had vanished--humili