he neighbors; and even Sylvia, in spite of her
defiant eyes and worldly ways, became popular among the young men
and maidens. She touched her beloved guitar with a skill which seemed
marvellous to the latter; and when it was known that her refusal to
enter the sect arose from her fondness for the prohibited instrument,
she found many apologists among them. She was not set upon, and called
hard names, as she had anticipated. It is true that her father, when
appealed to by the elders, shook his head and said, "It is a cross to
us!"--but he had been known to remain in the room while she sang "Full
high in Kilbride," and the keen light which arose in his eyes was
neither that of sorrow nor anger.

At the end of their first year of residence the farm presented evidences
of much more orderly and intelligent management than at first, although
the adjoining neighbors were of the opinion that the Donnellys had
hardly made their living out of it. Friend Henry, nevertheless, was
ready with the advance rent, and his bills were promptly paid. He
was close at a bargain, which was considered rather a merit than
otherwise,--and almost painfully exact in observing the strict letter of
it, when made.

As time passed by, and the family became a permanent part and parcel
of the remote community, wearing its peaceful color and breathing
its untroubled atmosphere, nothing occurred to disturb the esteem and
respect which its members enjoyed. From time to time the postmaster at
the corner delivered to Henry Donnelly a letter from New York, always
addressed in the same hand. The first which arrived had an "Esq." added
to the name, but this "compliment" (as the Friends termed it) soon
ceased. Perhaps the official may have vaguely wondered whether there was
any connection between the occasional absence of Friend Henry--not at
Yearly-Meeting time--and these letters. If he had been a visitor at the
farm-house he might have noticed variations in the moods of its inmates,
which must have arisen from some other cause than the price of stock or
the condition of the crops. Outside of the family circle, however, they
were serenely reticent.

In five or six years, when De Courcy had grown to be a hale, handsome
man of twenty-four, and as capable of conducting a farm as any to the
township born, certain aberrations from the strict line of discipline
began to be rumored. He rode a gallant horse, dressed a little more
elegantly than his membership prescri