and her heart quailed in realising the possibility of which she had
spoken. Her own angry words had diverted her attention from questioning
the reasonableness of the new faith to the fearful contemplation of what
might be the result of rejection.

If she quailed at her own speech, the grief of the young Quaker was more
obvious. He put up his hands as if in fear that she should add to her
sin by repeating her words. Quiet as was his demeanour, the emotional
side of his nature had evidently been deeply wrought upon to-day, for
when he tried to speak to reprove her, grief choked his utterance. It
was not at that time a strange thing for men under the influence of
religious convictions to weep easily. On the contrary, it was accounted
by evangelists a sign of great grace; but Susannah, accustomed only to
the reserve of English gentlemen and her uncle's stern Puritan
self-repression, seeing this young Quaker weep for her sake, was greatly
touched. She became possessed by an excited desire to console him.

The young man turned, weeping as he went, into a little wood that here
bordered the road. Susannah followed, full of ruth, thinking that he
merely sought temporary shade.

They had proceeded under the trees a few paces when Emma Smith came up
from the bank of the river to meet them. Halsey controlled himself and
spoke to Emma.

"She has refused. For this time she has rejected the truth."

Now to Susannah the matter for amazement was that she had come so far
from home (although, it was not very far), that she had actually
arrived, as it seemed, at an appointed place. The sting that this gave