e. I've been thinking, what if
something has happened, and the letters cease to come? And it has seemed
to me--now that the boys are as good farmers as any, and Alice is such a
tidy housekeeper--that we could manage very well without help. Only for
thy sake, Henry: I fear it would be a terrible disappointment to thee.
Or is thee as accustomed to the high seat as I to my place on the
women's side?"

"No!" he answered emphatically. "The talk with De Courcy has set my
quiet Quaker blood in motion. The boy is more than half right; I am sure
Sylvia thinks so too. What could I expect? He has no birthright, and
didn't begin his task, as I did, after the bravery of youth was over.
It took six generations to establish the serenity and content of our
brethren here, and the dress we wear don't give us the nature. De Courcy
is tired of the masquerade, and Sylvia is tired of seeing it. Thou, my
little Susan, who wert so timid at first, puttest us all to shame now!"

"I think I was meant for it,--Alice, and Henry, and I," said she.

No outward change in Henry Donnelly's demeanor betrayed this or any
other disturbance at home. There were repeated consultations between the
father and son, but they led to no satisfactory conclusion. De Courcy
was sincerely attached to the pretty Presbyterian maiden, and found
livelier society in her brothers and cousins than among the grave,
awkward Quaker youths of Londongrove.

With the occasional freedom from restraint there awoke in him a desire
for independence--a thirst for the suppressed license of youth. His
new acquaintances were accustomed to a rigid domestic regime, but of a
different character, and they met on a common ground of rebellion. Their
aberrations, it is true, were not of a very formidable character, and
need not have been guarded but for the severe conventionalities of both
sects. An occasional fox-chase, horse-race, or a "stag party" at some
outlying tavern, formed the sum of their dissipation; they sang, danced
reels, and sometimes ran into little excesses through the stimulating
sense of the trespass they were committing.

By and by reports of certain of these performances were brought to
the notice of the Londongrove Friends, and, with the consent of
Henry Donnelly himself, De Courcy received a visit of warning and
remonstrance. He had foreseen the probability of such a visit and
was prepared. He denied none of the charges brought against him, and
accepted the grave couns