Presently she was heard calling, “Eveline; why, Eveline, art not ready yet?” to which a sweet voice responded, “here am I, dame,” succeeded by the pattering of quick, light feet, and a young woman, veiled, glided to her side, and they left the house together, accompanied by a servant.  Spikeman gazed after them through the window, which, as belonging to a house of the better class, was made of glass instead of oiled paper, which supplied its place in the humbler tenements, till they were out of sight.  The drum had some time before ceased its sonorous rattle, indicating thereby that the services had commenced, and the streets were bare of the last loiterer.  Spikeman then resumed his seat, listening and glancing occasionally at the door, as if he was expecting some one to enter.  At last, as if tired of waiting, he rose, and going to the door, called softly, “Prudence.”  No answer was returned, and in tones a little raised he called again.  This time a voice replied, “I am coming, your worship,” and the Assistant returned to his seat.  Perhaps five minutes longer passed, and he was becoming more impatient, and had risen from his chair, when a young woman in the dress of an upper domestic, or lady’s maid, entered the room.  She was apparently twenty-three or twenty-four years of age, large and plump, and glowing with health, and altogether of a most attractive appearance.  Her complexion was brilliant, brighter on account of the contrast with the white tunic which fell over her peach-blossom colored fustian skirt, and her eyes, which were cast down when she came into the room, disclosed hazel pupils as she raised them, and looked red, as if she had been weeping.

“I have remained behind, according to thy desire,” said the Assistant, advancing toward her, “for there is nothing I would not do to pleasure thee, Prudence.”

“I know not that I requested you to tarry,” answered the girl; “but an I remember right, you said you had some tidings of Philip Joy which you did wish to communicate to my private ear.”

“Something have I to tell thee of the poor varlet,” said Spikeman; “but first would I rather speak of one who doth interest me more.  But say, why is thy mind so careworn about this soldier?”

“He is a friend of mine,” said Prudence, blushing; “that is, we were neighbors, and acquainted in dear old England—­a cousin,” she added, telling naturally a little fib, “and so I am sorry to hear of his misfortune.”

“I hope that you do not long after the flesh-pots of Egypt,” said Spikeman, attempting to take her hand, which, however, she coyishly withdrew.  “What have we to do with England or her cramping ordinances, which we have turned our backs upon forever?  Was it not because of the yoke she sought to put upon our necks that we abandoned her, here to enjoy a wider liberty?  Believe me, beautiful Prudence, there are delights scattered all over the world, if there be only boldness and wisdom to find them; nor is their enjoyment inconsistent with the joys promised hereafter, whereof, indeed, they are the foretaste.”