is knees, and his
head between his hands.

The worn spot on the top of his head had widened considerably during
the summer, but Rachel looked stronger and brighter than she had for
many a day. There was even a little flush on her cheek, but that might
have come from the excitement of a long talk with her husband.

"I'm sorry thee takes it so hard, Thomas; I was afraid thee would. But
the way didn't seem to open for me to do much. I can see now, that
Dorothy's inclinations have been turning this way for some time, though
it's not likely she would own it, poor child; and Walter Evesham's not
one who is easily gainsayed. If _thee_ could only feel differently
about it, I can't say but it would make me very happy to see Dorothy's
heart satisfied. Can't thee bring thyself into unity with it, father?
He's a nice young man. They're nice folks. Thee can't complain of the
_blood_. Margaret Evesham tells me a cousin of hers married one of the
Lawrences, so we are kind of kin, after all."

"I don't complain of the blood; they're well enough placed as far as
the world is concerned! But their ways are not our ways, Rachel! Their
faith is not our faith!"

"Well! I can't see such a very great difference, come to live among
them! 'By their fruits ye shall know them.' To comfort the widow and
the fatherless, and keep ourselves unspotted from the world!--thee's
always preached that, father! I really can't see any more worldliness
here than among many households with us,--and I'm sure if we haven't
been the widow and the fatherless this summer, we've been next to it!"

Friend Barton raised his head a little, and rested his forehead on his
clasped hands.

"Rachel," he said, "look at that!" He pointed upward to an ancient
sword with belt and trappings, which gleamed on the panelled
chimney-piece--crossed by an old queen's arm. Evesham had given up his
large sunny room to Dorothy's mother, but he had not removed all his
lares and penates.

"Yes, dear; that's his grandfather's sword--Colonel Evesham, who was
killed at Saratoga!"

"Why does he hang up that thing of abomination for a light and a guide
to his footsteps, if his way be not far from ours?"

"Why, father! Colonel Evesham was a good man!--I dare say he fought for
the same reason that thee preaches--because he felt it his duty!"

"I find no fault with _him_, Rachel. Doubtless he followed his light,
as thee says; but he followed it in better ways too. He cleared land
and bu