t
going on, it will be discovered, and those that are guilty will be
brought to justice."

Mrs. Turnbull did not pursue the subject any farther, but the sad,
pained look of her hostess became fixed in her memory. She could not
shake the conviction from her that Mrs. Clarkson was haunted by the
dread of some one belonging to herself having some connection with
Jimmy's prayer.

Mrs. Turnbull paid frequent visits to the farm, and one winter evening
she happened to be there when a violent snowstorm made the ground
impassable, so she was prevailed upon to stay until the following day.
The household consisted of Mrs. Clarkson, her sister, and two nieces,
who were very pleased to have the company of a woman who was so full
of information and reminiscence. Her mother was said to have been the
daughter of a Scottish law-lord's son, who was disinherited because he
was thought to have married beneath his station--that is, instead of
marrying the lady selected by his father from his own class, who had
nothing in common with him, he had chosen and fixed his affections on
a lady outside his rank, who was talented, had high intellectual and
religious qualities, and good looks, but was financially poor. Mrs.
Turnbull had excited the curiosity of the two young ladies by relating
this part of her history, and they were naturally eager to hear more.
With that object in view, they asked their aunt to allow her to sleep
in their room, and the request was granted. The good lady, however,
had said all that she intended to say about herself, and
notwithstanding the ingenious and persuasive requests of her young
friends, she stood steadfastly to her resolve. She talked to them
about the farm and their aunt and cousins, and her own family, and the
religious work that was being carried on, but never another word about
herself or her ancestry could be drawn from her. Perhaps it was that
she considered it scarcely wise to discuss romance with young girls.
And so they talked themselves out about other things, and then went to
sleep.

Early in the morning, Mrs. Turnbull was awakened by what she took to
be a door slamming. She got up with the intention of closing it, and
then heard voices talking, sometimes in an ordinary tone, but for the
most part in an excited whisper. She listened, with the bedroom door
ajar, and heard the voice of Mrs. Clarkson say--

"If you do not dissociate yourself from these wicked men you will come
to grief. You are s