"She's crossed th' seas," she said, "an' lived i' furrin parts. She's getten queer ways an' she stares at a body--but I loike her fur aw that." "Been i' furrin parts!" exclaimed Mrs. Briarley. "Bless us! No wonder th' poor thing's a bit heathenish. Hast tha ivver seed her at Chapel, Jane Ann?" The fact that she had not been seen at chapel awakened grave misgivings as to the possible presence of popery and the "scarlet woman," which objectionable female figured largely and in most unpleasant guise in the discourses of Brother Hixon. "Theer's no knowin' what th' poor lass has been browt up to," said the good matron, "livin' reet under th' Pope's nose an' nivver darin' to say her soul's her own. I nivver had no notion o' them furrin parts mysen. Gie me Lancashire." But the next week the girl made her visit to the chapel and sat throughout the sermon with her steadfast black eyes fixed upon the Reverend Mr. Hixon. Once, during a moment of inflammatory eloquence, that gentleman, suddenly becoming conscious of her gaze, stopped with a start and with difficulty regained his equilibrium, though Christian did not flinch at all, or seem to observe his alarm and confusion. She cultivated Janey with an odd persistence after this. She asked her questions concerning her life and experiences, and always seemed to find her interesting. Often Janey was conscious of the fact that she stood and looked at her for some time with an air of curiosity. "Do you," she asked her suddenly one day, "do you believe all that man says to you?" Janey started into a sitting posture, as was her custom when roused in the midst of her labors. "Eh! bless us! Yes," she exclaimed. "Dunnot yo'?" "No.". Recollections of the "scarlet woman" flashed across her young hearer's mind. "Art tha a Papist?" she gasped. "No--not yet." "Art tha," Janey asked, breathlessly,--"art tha goin' to be?" "I don't know." "An' tha--tha does na believe what Mester Hixon says?" "No--not yet." "What does tha believe?" She stared up at the dark young face aghast. It was quite unmoved. The girl's eyes were fixed on space. "Nothing." "Wheer--wheer does tha expect to go when tha dees?" "I don't know," she said, coldly; "very often I don't care." Janey dropped her brush and forgot to pick it up. "Why, bless thee!" she exclaimed with some sharpness, and also with the manner of one presenting the only practical solution of a difficulty, "tha'lt go to hell, i' tha does na repent!" The girl turned her eyes upon her. "Does it all depend on that?" she demanded. "Aye, to be sure," she replied, testily. "Does na tha know that?" "Then," said Christian, slowly, "I shall not go to hell for I am repenting." And she turned about and walked away. CHAPTER XXXIII. A SEED SOWN.