She sank down on the first bench and looked about her wonderingly. Meg knew little more than a heathen; she knew that there was a God, whose name she had often heard taken in vain; and that was all. But she had a thirsty soul and often felt that there was some great and beautiful secret, known to many, of which she was ignorant. Night after night, as she lay sleeping under the stars, she would look up at the sky with a great wonder at what she saw, and with a yearning after something intangible. She had once spoken to Jem about her thoughts and he had suddenly looked down upon her with a bright smile, as if about to speak. Apparently however he could find no words in which to answer her. Meg looked around the little church with interest; then crossing her arms on the back of the bench she dropped her head on them and fell fast asleep. Suddenly she awoke to find that she was not alone. Several people were kneeling in front of her and a clergyman from the reading desk was saying the Confession, accompanied by the soft murmur of the congregation. "'We have erred and strayed from Thy ways like lost sheep.'" At the words Meg buried her head again in her arms. "Lost Sheep!" That just seemed to describe her isolated condition. She sat sobbing till the close of the service, when she slipped out before the rest of the congregation. Ten minutes afterwards she was singing in the village street to a crowd of children who stared at her open mouthed. Several men who had been working in the fields passed her on their way home, and more than one stayed to listen. One who was the worse for drink pushed his way into the crowd, calling out some rude remark to her. The hot blood rushed into the girl's face and she longed for Jem's strong arm to teach the brute a lesson. She stopped singing abruptly, and turned away, taking refuge in a kind woman's cottage. This was the first of several disagreeable experiences that the girl passed through, and she found to her dismay that they had such an effect upon her that her courage began to dwindle. She grew nervous of tramping the lonely lanes, specially when it was dark, and even the thought of Bostock's beasts could not induce her to continue her journey after sunset, unless it was positively necessary to do so. If she could not find someone to take her in for the night she would look about her for a hay-rick or barn; anything was better, however rough the accommodation, than walking by herself along the lonely roads.