nt, stoves were nearly midway up the
cracking church-floor; and Mary, the free woman, had made a fire in one
of them, and the pine wood was roaring, and the long height of pipe was
smoking. Startled by the fire, a venerable opossum came out of one of
the pews, and waggled down the aisle, like a gray devotee who had said
his prayers, and feared no man.

Vesta was reading her prayer-book aloud near the stove to the pretty
widow and Grandmother Tilghman. In a few moments the young rector
emerged from a curious old gallery for black people, by the door,
wearing his surplice; and he read the service at the desk, plaintive and
simple, Milburn and his group responding in the room a thousand might
have worshipped in.

"Cousin Vesta," the minister said, after the service, "Miss Holland is
going to try to love me. Mr. Milburn, may I address her?"

"She is a wilful piece," Meshach said; "you must school her first. Let
my wife give my consent."

Vesta went to both, and kissed them:

"I feel so much encouraged, dear Rhoda and William, to see love
beginning all about me. Now, Norah, if you could be just to James
Phoebus, who is proving his love to you, perhaps, with his life!"

"Yes, that is a match I approve of," said Grandmother Tilghman, "but I
don't want Bill to marry. Disappointed men make rash selections."

"Oh," said Rhoda, "don't conglatulate him too soon; I haven't tuk him
yet. He's goin' teach me outen the books, and I'll teach him outen the
forest."

They walked together to the river bank, and Mrs. Dennis had the poor
woman, Mary, tell the adventures of Jimmy Phoebus to save her from
slavery. All were deeply moved.

"Now, Norah," Grandmother Tilghman said, "the moment that man comes back
you go to him and kiss him, and say, 'James, you have been the only
father to my son. Do you want me to be your wife?' This world is made
for marrying, Norah. Women have no other career. Nature does not value
the brain of Shakespeare, but keeps the seed of every vagrant plant
warm, and marries everything."

"Well," said Vesta, "Norah loves James Phoebus; don't you, Norah?"

The widow blushed.

"Take him, my pretty neighbor," said Milburn.

As they all looked at her, she suddenly cried:

"I want to, indeed. I would have done so before, but I am superstitious.
Who is it that feeds me so mysteriously?"

"Has he been coming of late?" asked Mrs. Tilghman.

"No, not since you were married, Vesta."

"Then I think it will com