than terror upon Susannah's white cheeks.

Susannah would have run far to have been saved the awful interrogation
of opportunity. Perhaps all that she knew just then, in her childlike
bewilderment, was that the slanders of the persecution were wrong, and
her untrained mind jumped to the conclusion that the God of truth must
therefore be with Smith. Beyond this there was unnamed wonder at the
unexplained influence that Smith held over her, and more curious
thoughts, stretching out like the delicate tendrils of an unsupported
vine, concerning Halsey, his prayers and warnings, and the strength of
selfless devotion that she had read in his innocent eyes.

Old Croom, deacon and magistrate, was not one to tarry at such a
gathering longer than need be. When he perceived that some of the planks
of the bridge had been taken to support the dam he alighted and broke
down a log fence in order to drive his horses through meadow and stream
to join the road nearer home. His women must needs walk over the scanty
beams. Mrs. Croom, stately and well attired, could make her way through
the crowd; no one there was so rapt but that he let her pass when, with
eyes flashing in righteous indignation, she tapped him on the shoulder
and bid him stand aside. Susannah followed in her aunt's wake, the crowd
of neighbours and strange labourers closing behind them again as they
worked their way, of necessity slowly, nearer and nearer the preacher
and the little band of adherents that stood steadfast around him.

Susannah heard the words of the sermon in which open confession of his
own past sin, bold persuasions to Christianity and righteousness, were
strangely mingled with the claim of the new prophet. She could not
remember one moment what he had said the last. Low hisses and muttered
threats of the angry men about her fell on her ears in the same way,