eived by this stranger: possibly he had not heard of the English
girl, who was an inmate in the house where formerly he had seen only
grave, solemn, rigid, or heavy faces, and had been received with a
stiff form of welcome, very different from the blushing, smiling,
dimpled looks that innocently met him with the greeting almost of an
old acquaintance. Lois having placed a chair for him, hastened out to
call Faith, never doubting but that the feeling which her cousin
entertained for the young pastor was mutual, although it might be
unrecognised in its full depth by either.

'Faith!' said she, bright and breathless. 'Guess--no,' checking herself
to an assumed unconsciousness of any particular importance likely to be
affixed to her words, 'Mr. Nolan, the new pastor, is in the
keeping-room. He has asked for my aunt and Manasseh. My aunt is gone to
the prayer meeting at Pastor Tappau's, and Manasseh is away.' Lois went
on speaking to give Faith time, for the girl had become deadly white at
the intelligence, while, at the same time, her eyes met the keen,
cunning eyes of the old Indian with a peculiar look of half-wondering
awe, while Nattee's looks expressed triumphant satisfaction.

'Go,' said Lois, smoothing Faith's hair, and kissing the white, cold
cheek, 'or he will wonder why no one comes to see him, and perhaps
think he is not welcome.' Faith went without another word into the
keeping-room, and shut the door of communication. Nattee and Lois were
left together. Lois felt as happy as if some piece of good fortune had
befallen herself. For the time, her growing dread of Manasseh's wild,
ominous persistence in his suit, her aunt's coldness, her own
loneliness, were all forgotten, and she could almost have danced with
joy. Nattee laughed aloud, and talked and chuckled to herself: 'Old
Indian woman great mystery. Old Indian woman sent hither and thither;
go where she is told, where she hears with her ears. But old Indian
woman'--and here she drew herself up, and the expression of her face
quite changed--'know how to call, and then white man must come; and old
Indian have spoken never a word, and white man have hear nothing with
his ears.' So, the old crone muttered.

All this time, things were going on very differently in the
keeping-room to what Lois imagined. Faith sat stiller even than usual;
her eyes downcast, her words few. A quick observer might have noticed a
certain tremulousness about her hands, and an occasional