sat down upon the bench beside Truelove, and taking the hem of her
apron began to plait it between his fingers. "But to-day," he said,--"but
to-day the sky seems blue, the sunshine bright. Why is that, Truelove?"

Truelove, with her eyes cast down and a deeper wild rose in her cheeks,
opined that it was because Friend Marmaduke Haward was well of his fever,
and had that day returned to Fair View. "Friend Lewis Contesse did tell my
father, when he was in Williamsburgh, that thee made a tenderer nurse than
any woman, and that he did think that Marmaduke Haward owed his life to
thee. I am glad that thee has made friends with him whom men foolishly
call thy master."

"Credit to that the blue sky," said the storekeeper whimsically; "there is
yet the sunshine to be accounted for. This room did not look so bright
half an hour syne."

But Truelove shook her head, and would not reckon further; instead heard
Ephraim calling, and gently drew her apron from the Highlander's clasp.
"There will be a meeting of Friends at our house next fourth day," she
said, in her most dovelike tones, as she rose and held out her hand for
her new shoes. "Will thee come, Angus? Thee will be edified, for Friend
Sarah Story, who hath the gift of prophecy, will be there, and we do think
to hear of great things. Thee will come?"

"By St. Kattan, that will I!" exclaimed the storekeeper, with suspicious
readiness. "The meeting lasts not long, does it? When the Friends are gone
there will be reward? I mean I may sit on the doorstep and watch you--and
watch _thee_--spin?"

Truelove dimpled once more, took her shoes, and would have gone her way
sedately and alone, but MacLean must needs keep her company to the end of
the landing and the waiting Ephraim. The latter, as he rowed away from the
Fair View store, remarked upon his sister's looks: "What makes thy cheeks
so pink, Truelove, and thy eyes so big and soft?"

Truelove did not know; thought that mayhap 'twas the sunshine and the
blowing wind.

The sun still shone, but the wind had fallen, when, two hours later,
MacLean pocketed the key of the store, betook himself again to the water's
edge, and entering a small boat, first turned it sunwise for luck's sake,
then rowed slowly downstream to the great-house landing. Here he found a
handful of negroes--boatmen and house servants--basking in the sunlight.
Juba was of the number, and at MacLean's call scrambled to his feet and
came to the head of the ste