came upon
Nathan so suddenly, that, although he had been in her thoughts, she gave
a frightened little cry when he drew her peremptorily under the shadow
of the branches. The rules that govern the Shaker Community are very
strict, but in reality the true Believer never thinks of them as rules,
nor is trammeled by them. They are fixed habits of the blood, as common,
as natural, as sitting or standing, eating or drinking. No Brother is
allowed to hold any lengthy interview with a Sister, nor to work, walk,
or drive with her alone; but these protective customs, which all are
bound in honor to keep, are too much a matter of every-day life to be
strange or irksome.

"I must speak to you, Hetty," whispered Nathan. "I cannot bear it any
longer alone. What shall we do?"

"Do?" echoed Hetty, trembling.

"Yes, _do_." There was no pretense of asking her if she loved or
suffered, or lived in torture and suspense. They had not uttered a word
to each other, but their eyes had "shed meanings."

"You know we can't go on like this," he continued rapidly. "We can't eat
their food, stay alongside of them, pray their prayers and act a lie all
the time,--we _can't_!"

"Nay, we can't!" said Hetty. "Oh, Nathan, shall we confess all and see
if they will help us to resist temptation? I know that's what Susanna
would want me to do, but oh! I should dread it."

"Nay, it is too late," Nathan answered drearily. "They could not help
us, and we should be held under suspicion forever after."

"I feel so wicked and miserable and unfaithful, I don't know what to
do!" sobbed Hetty.

"Yee, so do I!" the lad answered. "And I feel bitter against my father,
too. He brought me here to get rid of me, because he didn't dare leave
me on somebody's doorstep. He ought to have come back when I was grown a
man and asked me if I felt inclined to be a Shaker, and if I was good
enough to be one!"

"And my stepfather wouldn't have me in the house, so my mother had to
give me away; but they're both dead, and I'm alone in the world, though
I've never felt it, because the Sisters are so kind. Now they will hate
me--though they don't hate anybody."

"You've got me, Hetty! We must go away and be married. We'd better go
to-night to the minister in Albion."

"What if he wouldn't do it?"

"Why shouldn't he? Shakers take no vows, though I feel bound, hand and
foot, out of gratitude. If any other two young folks went to him, he
would marry them; and if he refuses