“Well,” the minister sighed.  “Well, perhaps I won’t tell it now.  I’d rather wait until I feel stronger.  You won t care, will you?  It will be hard to tell and I—­”

“No, no!  Care?  No.  If it’s bad news I don’t want to hear it, and if it’s good I can wait, I cal’late.  You turn over and take a nap.”

She could manage him; it was with Grace that she had her struggle.  John was safe now; he would be himself again before very long, and the girl had begun to think of his future and his reputation.  She knew that gossip must be busy in the village, and, much as she wished to remain by his side, she decided that she should not do so.  And then Keziah began to fulfill her agreement with Dr. Parker.

First, and bluntly, she told the girl that her leaving now was useless.  The secret was out; it had been made public.  Everyone knew she was in love with John and he with her.  Their engagement was considered an established certainty.  Grace was greatly agitated and very indignant.

“Who dared say so?” she demanded.  “Who dared say we were engaged?  It’s not true.  It’s a wicked lie and—­Who is responsible, Aunt Keziah?”

“Well, I suppose likely I am, much as anybody, deary.”

“You?  You, Aunt Keziah?”

“Yup; me.  You are in love with him; at any rate, you said so.  And you’re here with him, ain’t you?  If you two ain’t engaged you ought to be.”

“Aunt Keziah, how can you speak so?  Don’t you realize—­”

“Look here.  Don’t you want to marry him?”

“Want to?  Oh, please—­How can you?  I—­”

“S-s-sh!  There! there!  I am a bull-headed old thing, for sure.  But I’m like the dog that chased the rat across the shelf where they kept the best china, my intentions are good.  Don’t cry, deary.  Let’s get to the bottom of this thing, as the man said when he tumbled into the well.  When I first knew that you and John were in love with each other, I felt dreadful.  I knew your uncle and I knew Trumet.  If you had married then, or let people know that you thought of it, ’twould have been the end, and ruin for John and you.  But things are diff’rent now, a good deal diff’rent.  John is worshiped pretty nigh, since his pluck with that smallpox man.  He could go into church and dance a jig in the pulpit and nobody—­or precious few, at least—­would find fault.  And you’ve stood by him.  If it wa’n’t for you he wouldn’t be here to-day, and people know that.  Dr. Parker and Captain Zebedee and Gaius Winslow and dozens more are fighting for him and for you.  And the doctor says they are going to win.  Do you want to spoil it all?”

“Aunt Keziah, that night before uncle died I was upstairs in my room and I heard uncle and Captain Elkanah Daniels talking.”

“Elkanah?  Was he there at your house?”

“Yes.  Somehow or other—­I don’t know how—­he had learned about—­about John and me.  And he was furious.  Aunt Keziah, I heard him say that unless I broke off with John he would drive him from the ministry and from Trumet and disgrace him forever.  He said that if I really cared for him I would not ruin his life.  That brought me to myself.  I realized how wicked I had been and what I was doing.  That was why I—­I—­”