after retiring for the night, peering out into the darkness in great
anxiety for his son's safety.

"Very interesting, father; nothing less than a ducking on the Rock
Bridge! The storm was raging furiously there, and a girl was crossing
in the midst of it; she was in some danger, and I was able to help her
to cross in safety."

"One of our congregation?" asked the old man.

"By Jove! no, father; there isn't one girl under seventy in our
congregation!"

"A Methodist, then, I suppose--one of Essec Powell's lot?"

"Yes," said Cardo, beginning to redden; "but surely you wouldn't let a
woman be drowned without making an effort to save her because she was a
Methodist?"

"I did not say so, Cardo; but certainly I should prefer my son's
risking his life for a member of the church."

Cardo made a gesture of impatience which his father saw and felt. It
irritated him, and, fixing his eyes steadily on his son's face, he said:

"I don't know how it is, but of late that subject has frequently been
on your tongue. I have no cause to love the Methodists, and I hope
they are not now going to add to my reasons for disliking them by
coming between me and my son. I simply wish you not to mention them to
me, Cardo--that is not much to ask."