endure weakness and tribulation; blessed are they who peaceably shall
endure . . ."

Slowly, to the tonkle of herds in pasture, the crowing of cocks, and
the thin, clear clang of the smithy, the full sun sank in the west.
For a time all was quiet, as night, the shadow of the earth, crept
between man and God.

After supper Thomas Frye, in his father's wagon, went to call on Anna
Barly.

From her porch where she sat hidden by vines which gave forth an odor
sweeter than honey, the night was visible, pale and full of shadows.
To the boy beside her, timid and ardent, the silence of her parents
seemed, like the night, to be full of opinions.

"Well . . . shall we go for a ride?"

Anna called in to her mother, "I'm going for a ride with Tom."

"Don't be late," said her mother.

The two went down the path, and climbed into the buggy; soon the yellow
lantern, swung between its wheels, rolled like a star down the road to
Milford.

"Why so quiet, Tom?"

"Am I, Ann?"