le there
was more meant than reached the ear. He remembered how meaningly, how
even commandingly her gray eye had fixed itself on him as she spoke, and
he believed in the great love which the ancient spinster bore him. At
any rate he knew she would be gratified by such a proof of confidence on
his part, and that with Spartan integrity she would guard the trust. It
would be a relief to confide in her.

He waited till twilight and then appeared an unexpected but welcome
visitor at the Hermitage, as Helen called the old gray cottage. The
light in the chimney was dim, and she was hastening to kindle a more
cheering blaze.

"No, Miss Thusa," said he, "I love this soft gloom. There's no need of a
blaze to talk by, you know."

"But I want to see you, Louis. It is long since we've watched your
coming. Many a time has Helen sat where you are now, and talked about
you till the tears would run down her cheeks, wondering why you didn't
come, and fearing some evil had befallen you. I've had my misgivings,
too, though I never breathed them to mortal ear, ever since you went off
with that long-haired upstart, who fumbled so about my wheel, trying to
fool me with his soft nonsense. What has become of him?"

"He is at home, I believe--but you are too harsh in your judgment, Miss
Thusa. It is strange what prejudiced you so against him."

"Something _here_," cried the spinster, striking her hand against her
heart; "something that God put here, not man. I'm glad you and he have
parted company; and I'm glad for more sakes than one. I never loved
Mittie, but she's her mother's child, and I don't like the thought of
her being miserable for life. And now, Louis, what do you want me to do
for you? I can see you are in trouble, though you don't want the fire to
blaze on your face. You forget I wear glasses, though they are not
always at home, where they ought to be, on the bridge of my nose."

"You told me if I needed counsel or assistance, to come to you and not
trouble my kindred. I am in distress, Miss Thusa, and it is my own
fault. I'm in debt. I owe money that I cannot raise; I cannot tax my
father again to pay the wages of sin. Tell me now how you can aid me;
_you_, poor and lonely, earning only a scanty pittance by the flax on
your distaff, and as ignorant of the world as simple-hearted Helen
herself?"

Miss Thusa leaned her head forward on both hands, swaying her body
slowly backward and forward for a few seconds; then taking the