"’Tain’t no use, Sile—’tain’t no use," he said, moving away to his horse. "Them that forgives air to be forgiven," said the preacher. But the old man silently mounted and rode away. Mrs. Long was also ready to depart, being eager to spread the news of the quarrel throughout the settlement. Ed’ards leaned against the rough sapling post supporting the piazza, with head dejectedly drooped. Mrs. Harding wiped her eyes, and looked furtively at him. "Wouldn’t you like to take a cheer an’ rest, Brother Ed’ards?" she said, gently. "I know it’s sinful to carry on the way we’ve been a-doin’ this mornin’, but them Hurds are that mean an’ no ’count—" she paused, then hurriedly changed the subject. "I’m most obleeged to take this corn down to the fields." "Don’t let me hinder you then, for I must soon be gittin’ on my way. I must ask wisdom ’fore I say any more to you an’ Brother Hurd—and I must git strength for myself," he concluded, half under his breath. When left alone, he sat down on the edge of the piazza a few minutes, then walked slowly around the house to the kitchen-door to speak a few words to Sarah Betsy. She sat on the bench before the loom, but the shuttles lay idle on the beam, while she leaned forward with her face hidden in her hands. So still and deep seemed her dejection he would not disturb her, but stood gazing on her drooped figure with yearning eyes. He had long secretly loved her, but had scarcely realized that he indulged the hope of winning her until he learned that her heart was given to John Hurd. He had been used to self-denial all his life, and after the first confused sensation of misery and loss, strove to put aside his own feelings, and desire only her happiness. He had sought her to speak some comforting words, but finding her in that attitude of silent grief turned away, and left her alone.