sobs came once more from the
bed. The old woman crouched down on a stone beside the log wall and drew
the shawl about her shoulders.

A rooster crowed for midnight. Still the restless thing inside was
stirring. Nance rose uneasily. Her lantern was still burning in her
storehouse under the cliff. The wick might eat so low it would explode.
She had heard that such things happened to lamps. It was foolish to have
left it burning, anyhow.

She glided noiselessly from the house into the woods, entered her hidden
door exactly as she had done before, extinguished the lantern, placed it
on a shelving rock and put a dozen matches beside it.

In ten minutes she had returned to the house and crouched once more
against the wall of the shed.

The low, pleading voice was praying. She pressed her ear to the crack
and heard distinctly. She must be patient. Her plan was sure to succeed
if she were only patient. No woman could sob and pray and walk all
night. She must fall down unconscious from sheer exhaustion before day.

The old woman slipped into the kitchen, took up the quilt which she had
spread on the floor for her bed, wrapped it about her thin shoulders and
returned to her watch.

Again and again she rose, believing her patience had won, and placed
her ear to the crack only to hear a sound within which told her only too
plainly that the girl was yet awake. Sometimes it was a sigh, sometimes
she cleared her throat, sometimes she tossed restlessly. One spoken
sentence she heard again and again:

"Oh, dear God, have mercy on my lost soul!"

"What can be the matter with the fool critter!" Nance muttered. "Is she
moanin' for sin? To be shore, they don't have no revival meetings this
time o' year!"

She had known sinners to mourn through a whole summer sometimes, but
never in all her experience in religious revivals had a mourner carried
it over into winter. The dancing had always eased the tension and
brought a relapse to sinful thoughts.

The hours dragged until the roosters began to crow for day. It would
soon be light.

She must act now. There was no time to lose. She pressed her ear to the
crack once more and held it five minutes.

Not a sound came from within. The broken spirit had yielded to the
stupor of exhaustion at last.

With swift, cat's tread Nance circled the cabin and entered the kitchen.
The quilt she carefully spread on the floor leading to the entrance to
the living-room, crossed it softly and stood