"MISTER SAUNDERS, Sir," she had begun: "I take the liberty of writing these few lines. Mister Saunders you may spose Catherine Dennis is gone with Heber, but not she. He nows no more nor you where shes gone. She run from here for fere of him sir, if you look you will find her yet. "No more from your welwisher, "SUSANNAH MOORHOUSE." Whether or no she expected an answer to this letter, she hoped for one; and when some days passed and brought no sign from Charles, she began to grow restless. Heber had not returned, though, hitherto, he had always contrived to pay a weekly visit to his father, if but for five minutes. He was the old man's favourite son and the only one of four brothers who lived within reach. The uncertainty as to what was going on began to prey upon Susannah's nerves. Events which meant so much to her had run quickly enough of late to make inaction doubly unbearable; and, if she could not see Saunders, she must at least see her cousin. Pencoed Chapel was the only place in which she was sure of meeting him, and she informed her uncle that she meant to go there on the following Sunday. The distance from Talgwynne put walking out of the question; but she descended from the farm gig in which an acquaintance had driven her as near to Pencoed as wheels could go, to make the rest of her way on foot. She had been obliged to start early to reach the chapel in time for the meeting, and as she neared it the sound of singing came to her on the wind. She paused outside the door; looking stealthily in, and seeing the tall figure of Black Heber, she slipped noiselessly into a seat. The little, box-like building was half full of men and women; elderly people, for the most part, in dark-coloured clothes. The windows, which were small, with diamond leaded panes set low in the walls, let in an even light on their subdued homeliness. Apart from them, at a table covered with faded red cloth, was the same man who had baptized Catherine in the pool at Bethesda. The hymn was a long one and the singers were well embarked on it; the predominance of men in the gathering gave it a fulness and strength of sound; and, as it was one immensely popular in the district, its solemn rhythm and swaying time were marred by no uncertainties. Heber stood in a line with Susannah, by the opposite wall, head and shoulders above the other worshippers, his eyes fixed on his book. She could hear his strong, melodious voice separately, fervent, and steady; and she listened to it as a person by a river's side will listen to the tune of one particular eddy in the full underlying rush of water.