Then a servant came to inquire if she was at home.

“What, on Sunday?  Of course not.  Who is it?”

“Mr. Coventry, miss.”

“I am at home.”

CHAPTER X.

People that met Jael Dence and Henry Little driving to Cairnhope were struck with their faces; his so dark, hers so fair, and both so handsome:  but the woman’s lit up with lively delight, the man’s clouded and sorrowful, and his brow knit with care.  This very day he must take the lock off Cairnhope old church, in spite of his Uncle Raby.  He had got the requisite tools with him hidden in the gig; but, even should he succeed, it was but the first step of a difficult and, perhaps, dangerous enterprise; and he was entering on it all with a heart no longer buoyed by hopeful love.  But for his pledge to Mr. Cheetham he could hardly have persisted in the struggle.

As for Jael Dence, she had no great reason to be happy either:  the man she loved loved another.  Still he was kind to her, and they belonged to the same class; she had a chance, and gleams of hope.  And, after all, the future was uncertain, but the present certain:  she had him to herself for the day.  She was close to him—­so close, that she could feel him—­and he was driving her out, and to those who loved her:  she basked in the present delight, and looked as if she was being taken to heaven by an angel, instead of driving to Cairnhope by a gloomy young man, whom the passers-by envied, and wondered at his good luck in having such a companion.  She talked to him, and got the short answers of an absent man.  But she continued to make her little remarks occasionally, and, ere they reached Cairnhope, he found himself somehow soothed by her sex, her beauty, and her mellow, kindly voice.

As they drove up to the farm-house, he told her to hide her face a moment, for they didn’t know who it was.

Martha ran out.  “Y’are welcome, y’are welcome; and so is your—­Eh!  Why it’s our Jael.  ’Tis no avail to hide thy face, thou jade; I know every bit o’ thee.”  And Patty had her out of the gig in a moment, and there was a cuddling match it did one good to see.

Henry perked up for a moment and offered a suggestion.  “Some of that ought to come my way, for bringing her here.”

“Oh, you’ll get enough o’ that fun before you die,” said Patty.  “Now come you in; the carter’s boy will take the horse.”

They went in and greeted the old farmer; and soon the bell began to ring for church, and Nathan Dence told Martha to put on her bonnet.

“La, father!” said she, piteously.

“She prefers to stay at home and chat with Jael,” said Henry.  The fact is, he wanted to be rid of them both.

Old Dence shook his head.  He was one of those simple, grand, old rustic Christians, who have somehow picked out the marrow of religion, and left the devil the bone, yclept theology.  “What?” said he, “my lasses! can’t ye spare God a slice out of his own day?”