do not care. I will not be bound by it; and Leah knows it."

"You acted unfairly toward me, Jethro. Leah has the prior right. I
recall my troth. I will not marry you without her consent."

"You will not!" said the young man passionately--for well he knew that
Leah's consent would never be given.

"No, I will not!"

"Then take your troth back in welcome. In truth, I met you here this day
to tell you that. I love Leah Herrick's little finger better than your
whole body with your Jezebel's bodice, and your fine lady's airs. You
had better go now and marry that conceited popinjay up at Jo Putnam's,
if you can get him."

With that he pushed off down the hill, and up the road, that he might
not be forced to accompany her back to the village.

Dulcibel was not prepared for such a burst of wrath, and such an
uncovering of the heart. Which of us has not been struck with wonder,
even far more than indignation, at such times? A sudden difference
occurs, and the man or the woman in whom you have had faith, and whom
you have believed noble and admirable, suddenly appears what he or she
really is, a very common and vulgar nature. It makes us sick at heart
that we could have been so deceived.

Such was the effect upon Dulcibel. What a chasm she had escaped. To
think she had really agreed to marry such a spirit as that! But
fortunately it was now all over.

She not only had lost a lover, but a friend. And one day before, this
also would have had its unpleasant side to her. But now she felt even a
sensation of relief. Was it because this very day a new vision had
entered into the charmed circle of her life? If it were so, she did not
acknowledge the fact to herself; or even wonder in her own mind, why the
sudden breaking of her troth-plight had not left her in a sadder humor.
For she put "Little Witch" into a brisk canter, and with a smile upon
her face rode into the main street of the village.

CHAPTER II.

In Which Some Necessary Information is Given.

Dulcibel Burton was an orphan. Her father becoming a little unsound in
doctrine, and being greatly pleased with the larger liberty of
conscience offered by William Penn to his colonists in Pennsylvania, had
leased his house and lands to a farmer by the name of Buckley, and
departed for Philadelphia. This was some ten years previous to the
opening of our story. After living happily in Philadelphia for about
eight years he died suddenly, and his wife decided to return