!" repeated Christie. "I dare say Effie has many a
one." And she sighed too; but almost before she had time to ask herself
what Effie's vexing thoughts might be, she was asleep. A voice, not
Effie's nor Mrs Nesbitt's, soon awoke her. The twilight had deepened,
and up and down the darkening room John Nesbitt was walking, with a step
quicker than was usual. Christie fancied there was something like
impatience in his step. He soon came and leaned on the window, close to
the place where Effie sat, and Christie heard him say, in a voice which
was not quite steady:

"Is it all over, then, Effie?"

Effie made a sudden movement of some kind, Christie could not tell what,
and after a moment she said:

"It would be better for you, John."

He did not wait to hear more. Soon, however, he came back again.

"And will it be better for you, Effie?" he asked, gravely and gently,
yet with strong feeling.

"I must think of many a one before myself in this matter," she said; and
soon after added, "Don't make this trouble harder to bear, John."

There was a long silence; but John did not resume his walk, and by and
by Effie spoke again.

"Do you never think of your old wish to finish your studies?"

"My father's death put an end to that," he answered, sadly.

"I don't know why," said Effie. "Of course at the time it must have
done so; but you are young, and your brothers are growing up to take
your place with your mother and on the farm, and I think it would be
like putting your hand to the plough and looking back, to give up all
thought of entering the ministry. You have your life before you, John."

He did not answer.

"If it were for no other reason than that," continued Effie, "I could
not consent to burden you in the way you propose; and besides--your
mother--"

She turned, and caught the astonished eyes of Christie peering out of
the darkness, and paused.

"Effie," said Christie, when they were in their own room, and the candle
was out, "what were you saying to John Nesbitt to-night?"

"Saying?" repeated Effie.

"Yes--in the parlour. Does he want us to come and live here? I thought
he did by what he said."

"Some of us," said Effie, after a pause. "John is very kind, and so is
his mother. But of course it is not to be thought of."

"Must we leave the farm, Effie?" asked Christie, anxiously.

"I hardly know; I cannot tell. Aunt Elsie must decide."

"Is it not ours, Effie? Was my father in debt?"