and went on. "I have seen you in meeting," he said, with a kind of
defiance, more of himself than of her. After all, was he not the
minister, and had he not the right to speak to everybody in the
congregation? Why should he embarrass himself?

"Yes, sir," replied Evelina. She stood drooping her head before him,
and yet there was a certain delicate hauteur about her. Thomas was
afraid to speak again. They both stood silent for a moment, and then
Evelina stirred softly, as if to pass on, and Thomas spoke out
bravely. "Is your cousin, Miss Adams, well?" said he.

"She is pretty well, I thank you, sir."

"I've been wanting to--call," he began; then he hesitated again. His
handsome young face was blushing crimson.

Evelina's own color deepened. She turned her face away. "Cousin
Evelina never sees callers," she said, with grave courtesy; "perhaps
you did not know. She has not for a great many years."

"Yes, I did know it," returned Thomas Merriam; "that's the reason I
haven't called."

"Cousin Evelina is not strong," remarked the young girl, and there
was a savor of apology in her tone.

"But--" stammered Thomas; then he stopped again. "May I--has she any
objections to--anybody's coming to see you?"

Evelina started. "I am afraid Cousin Evelina would not approve," she