menced.
Others joined in the shouting and the uproar became deafening. It was
a familiar scene to Westerfelt, but to-day it was all like a dream. He
could not keep his eyes off the trees behind which he had left Harriet
with his new rival. What could be keeping them?

Presently he saw them emerge from the woods. They were still walking
slowly and close together. Westerfelt could learn nothing from
Harriet's passive face, but Bates now certainly looked depressed. A
sudden thought stunned Westerfelt. Could she have told Bates of her
old love for Wambush, and had he--even he--decided not to marry her?
They passed the shed, went on to Bates's buggy, got into it, and drove
down the road to Cartwright.

Chapter XX

The religious excitement had spread over all the congregation. Every
bench held some shouting or praying enthusiast. Some of the women
began to move about on the outside, pleading with the bystanders to go
forward for prayer. One of them spoke to Westerfelt, but he simply
shook his head. Just then he noticed Mrs. Dawson sitting on the end of
a bench next to the centre aisle. She had turned half round and was
staring at him fixedly. When she caught his eye, she got up and came
towards him. Other women were talking to men near him, and no one
noticed her approach.

In the depths of her bonnet her withered face had never appeared so
hard and unrelenting. She laid her hand on his arm and looked up into
his eyes.

"Are you a seeker, John Westerfelt?" she asked, with a sneer.

"No, I am not." He tried to draw his arm away, but her bony fingers
clutched and held it.

"They say the's a chance fer all to wipe out sins," she went on, "but I
have my doubts 'bout you. You know whar you'll land. You kin mighty
nigh feel the hot now, I reckon."

He caught her wrist and tore his arm from her grasp.

"Leave me alone!" he cried; then he dropped her wrist and added: "For
Heaven sake don't--_don't_ devil me to death; you make me forget you
are a woman and not a beast--a snake! My God, let me alone!"

His angry tone had drawn the attention of a few of the bystanders. A
tall, lank countryman, standing near Westerfelt, turned on him.

"Be ashamed o' yorese'f, young man," he said; "ef you don't want to be
prayed fer you don't have to, but don't cut up any o' yore shines with
these Christian women who are tryin' to do good."

"You don't know what you are talking about," replied Westerfelt, and he