There was a long silence. Sophy tried to shake off the chill which had fallen upon her heart by vigorously poking the fire. At length she ventured a glance at her silent companion. He was looking down intently at her. "You seem pretty old," she said, with that bluntness so common to uneducated people, and from which those above them wince in disgust--"are you married?" "No, my dear; a bachelor, at your service." "If you had a wife and children, they would cure you of these strange fancies." "Do you really think so?" "I am sure of it." There was another long silence. Her companion heaved a deep, melancholy sigh, and his thoughts seemed to break out into words, without any intention on the part of their owner. "I have plenty to keep both wife and children, and I would gladly marry to-morrow, if I thought any good woman would have me." Sophy smiled, and looked down into her lap. She twisted the strings of her checked apron round her fingers, the apron itself into every possible shape. At length she started from her seat. "Where are you going?" cried the stranger, in a tone of alarm. "To make you up a bed." "I would rather remain by the fire all night; if you will promise to stay with me." "But my mother would wonder what had become of me. I must leave you, and go to bed." Noah caught her little hand as she glided past him, and pulled her violently back-- "I will not part with you--you must stay." "Bless me, how timid you are! How you shake and tremble! I cannot understand this fear in a big man like you." "I should grow courageous if you were always by my side." "Perhaps you would soon be as much afraid of me as of the ghost," said Sophy, looking up into his sad eyes with a playful smile. "The ghost again! But tell me, my pretty maid, have you a sweetheart?" "What girl of eighteen, who is not positively ugly, has not?" returned Sophy, evasively. "But, one whom you prefer to all others?" "I have never yet seen that fortunate individual." "And is there no one for whom you feel any particular liking?" "None, I assure you." "Good," said Noah, musingly. "Have you a father?" "He was drowned in a heavy gale, during the fishing season, some years ago." "A mother?" "Yes; but she has been bed-ridden with the palsy ever since father died. Grief for his sudden loss brought it on. There are no hopes of her ever regaining the use of her limbs now." "Any brothers or sisters?" "One sister, the hunchbacked girl you saw in the next house; the rest are all dead. I lost a young sister about six weeks ago. She was only sixteen years of age, and as good as she was beautiful. Every body loved and respected Charlotte, and she died so happily. It was well for her. I have often envied her since she left us. I never knew what an angel she was until after we lost her." Noah sighed again, and was silent for some minutes. At length he said,-- "Is it only good people that die in peace?"