till; he also
was in his Sunday clothes. His face, too, was paler than its wont, but
it wore a kind of absent, rapt expression, almost like that of a man
who sees a vision. As Faith entered, still holding Lois in her fierce
grasp, Manasseh started and smiled; but still dreamily. His manner was
so peculiar, that even his mother stayed her talking to observe him
more closely; he was in that state of excitement which usually ended in
what his mother and certain of her friends esteemed a prophetic
revelation. He began to speak, at first very low, and then his voice
increased in power:

'How beautiful is the land of Beulah, far over the sea, beyond the
mountains! Thither the angels carry her, lying back in their arms like
one fainting. They shall kiss away the black circle of death, and lay
her down at the feet of the Lamb. I hear her pleading there for those
on earth who consented to her death. O Lois! pray also for me, pray for
me, miserable!'

When he uttered his cousin's name all their eyes turned towards her. It
was to her that his vision related! She stood among them, amazed,
awe-stricken, but not like one affrighted or dismayed. She was the
first to speak:

'Dear friends, do not think of me; his words may or may not be true. I
am in God's hands all the same, whether he have the gift of prophecy or
not. Besides, hear you not that I end where all would fain end? Think
of him, and of his needs. Such times as these always leave him
exhausted and weary, when he comes out of them.'

And she busied herself in cares for his refreshment, aiding her aunt's
trembling hands to set before him the requisite food, as he now sat
tired and bewildered, gathering together with difficulty his scattered
senses.

Prudence did all she could to assist and speed their departure. But
Faith stood apart, watching in silence with her passionate, angry eyes.

As soon as they had set out on their solemn, fatal errand, Faith left
the room. She had not tasted food or touched drink. Indeed, they all
felt sick at heart. The moment her sister had gone up stairs, Prudence
sprang to the settle on which Lois had thrown down her cloak and hood:

'Lend me your muffles and mantle, Cousin Lois. I never yet saw a woman
hanged, and I see not why I should not go. I will stand on the edge of
the crowd; no one will know me, and I will be home long before my
mother.'

'No!' said Lois, 'that may not be. My aunt would be sore displeased. I
wonder at you, Pr