here of memory and meditation, it carried a
different meaning. Her forehead dropped forward in her fingers, and
remained so until the song ended. Then she sighed, smiled wistfully, and
shook her head.

"Poor fellow! poor--Iberville!" she said, almost beneath her breath.

The next morning she was to be married. George Gering had returned to
her, for the second time defeated by Iberville. He had proved himself a
brave man, and, what was much in her father's sight, he was to have his
share of Phips's booty. And what was still more, Gering had prevailed
upon Phips to allow Mr. Leveret's investment in the first expedition to
receive a dividend from the second. Therefore she was ready to fulfil
her promise. Yet had she misgivings? For, only a few days before, she
had sent for the old pastor at Boston, who had known her since she was
a child. She wished, she said, to be married by him and no other at
Governor Nicholls's house, rather than at her own home at Boston, where
there was none other of her name.

The old pastor had come that afternoon, and she had asked him to see her
that evening. Not long after Morris had done with singing there came
a tapping at her door. She answered and old Pastor Macklin entered, a
white-haired man of kindly yet stern countenance, by nature a gentleman,
by practice a bigot. He came forward and took both her hands as she
rose. "My dear young lady!" he said, and smiled kindly at her. After a
word of greeting she offered him a chair, and came again to the window.

Presently she looked up and said very simply: "I am going to be married.
You have known me ever since I was born: do you think I will make a good
wife?"

"With prayer and chastening of the spirit, my daughter," he said.

"But suppose that at the altar I remembered another man?"

"A sin, my child, for which should be due sorrow." The girl smiled
sadly. She felt poignantly how little he could help her.

"And if the man were a Catholic and a Frenchman?" she said.

"A papist and a Frenchman!" he cried, lifting up his hands. "My
daughter, you ever were too playful. You speak of things impossible. I
pray you listen." Jessica raised her hand as if to stop him and to speak
herself, but she let him go on. With the least encouragement she might
have told him all. She had had her moment of weakness, but now it was
past. There are times when every woman feels she must have a confidant,
or her heart will burst--have counsel or she will die. S