It was at our house, one stormy evening.  Mother would never allow it again.  She said it was countenancing the theatre.  Besides, I thought she’d rather not have me look at Margaret when under the excitement of acting, for the next day she cautioned me against earthly idols.  But Margaret was my idol.

It was because she was so bewitching to me that I thought it could not be but that Jamie must be bewitched as well.  And it was because he was so taking in his manner that I felt certain she must be taken with him.  Thus I puzzled on from day to day, drifting about among my doubts and fears, like a ship in a fog.

I knew that Margaret thought my conduct strange.  Sometimes I seemed scarcely to live away from her; then I would change about, and not go near her for days.  To Jamie, too, I was often unfriendly, for it maddened me to think he might be playing a double game.  Mary seemed just as she always did.  But then she was simple-minded, and would never suspect anything or anybody.  It was astonishing, the state of excitement I finally worked myself into.  That was my make.  Once started upon a road, I would run its whole length.

* * * * *

February and March passed, and still we were not sent for to join our ship.  Jamie was getting uneasy, living, as he said, so long upon strangers.  Besides, I knew my manner troubled him.

One evening, as we were sitting around our kitchen-fire, Margaret with the rest, Mr. Nathaniel came in, all of a breeze, scolding away about his fishermen.  His schooner was all ready for The Banks, and two of his men had run off, with all their fitting-out.

“Come, you two lazy chaps,” said he, “you will just do to fill their places.”

“Agreed!” said Jamie.  “I’ll go, if Joseph will.”

“I’ll go,” said I. For I thought in a minute that he would rather not leave me behind, and I knew he needed the chance.

The women all began to exclaim against it,—­all but Margaret.  She turned pale, and kept silence.  That was Friday.  The vessel would sail Monday.  Mother was greatly troubled, but said, if I would go, she must make me comfortable; and all night I could hear her opening and shutting the bureau-drawers.  Margaret stopped with Mary:  I think they sewed till near morning.

The next evening the singers met in the vestry, to practise the tunes for the Sabbath.  We all sat in the singing-seats.  I played the small bass-viol.  Jamie sang counter, and the girls treble.  Margaret had a sweet voice,—­not very powerful.  She sat in the seats because the other girls did.

I went home with her that night.  She seemed so sad, so tender in her manner, that I came near speaking,—­came near telling her how much she was to me, and owning my feeling about Jamie.  But I didn’t quite.  Something kept me from it.  If there is such a thing as fate, ’twas that.

Going home, however, I made a resolution that the next night I would certainly know, from her own lips, whether it was me she liked, or Jamie.