ssed
the boisterous gayety of her brothers. John Calvin and Martin were
students at Cambridge University, Silas and Philip were absent all day
at the neighborhood school, and only little Matthew was left at home.
None of the family were allowed to attend services at Cane Ridge
meeting-house; Betsy was forbidden to hold intercourse with the Rogers
family; and she had no heart for any of the little merrymakings of the
neighborhood. Her parents urged another visit to Mary Winston, but to
this Betsy would not consent; for at the Winstons James Drane would be
an almost daily visitor, and Betsy now shared fully her lover's
distrust of the young lawyer.

One morning in early October, Betsy, sitting languidly with her sewing
in the long side porch, saw Mr. Drane ride up the avenue. She at once
gathered up her work and slipped away to her room, where she sat
expecting every moment a summons to come down. When an hour had passed,
she supposed that the visitor had departed, and she was folding up her
work, intending to go for a ramble through the woods--for her chief
solace now was to revisit the spot where she, nearly a year before, had
plighted her troth--when little Matthew came with a message from her
father that she was to come down at once to the parlor. "An' I mussen
tum back wid oo, pappy says," added the little fellow; "I'se to doe to
Mammy Dilsey an' det my face washed, an' my hair turled, an' a c'ean
apawn on."

"Who's there, baby, besides father? and where's mother?"

"Her's dere too, an' Mistah Drane, an' he tissed me, an' say I'se a
fine 'ittle man, an' he will tek me a nice wide on his pitty b'ack
hawse; so huwy up, sisser, an' tum an' see him, so's we tan doe
a-widin'."

When the girl entered the parlor, she saw at once that this was to be a
momentous interview. Her mother, dressed in her best silk gown, but
looking pale and nervous, was talking to Mr. Drane, who was seated
beside her on the sofa; while her father, looking more bland than she
had seen him for a long time, was slowly pacing the floor.

Mrs. Gilcrest gave her daughter an appealing, deprecating look as the
girl entered, and then sank back on the sofa with her hands twitching
nervously. Drane rose at once, and, stepping briskly across the room to
meet Betsy, bowed long before her, and then extended his hand. After a
moment's hesitation, she gave him hers in return, which he with
graceful gallantry carried to his lips. Then, still holding her hand