“Hillhouse don't look one bit well to-day,” he observed, as they were going out. “I'll bet he's been eatin' some o' the fool stuff women an' gals has been concoctin' to bewitch 'im with. They say the shortest road to a man's heart is through his stomach--it's the quickest route to a man's grave, too, I'm here to state to you.” “Oh, do hush!” Mrs. Porter exclaimed, her mind on something foreign to Nathan's comment. “You two walk on; I'm going to shake hands with Brother Hillhouse and ask about his mother.” She fell back behind the crowd surging through the door, and waited for the preacher to come down the aisle to her. “I couldn't see exactly what you were driving at,” she said, extending her hand. “I never heard finer argument or argument put in better language than what you said, but it seemed to me you left off something.” “I _did_,” he said, desperately. “I was going to end up with the evil tendencies he had inherited from his parents, and the pitfalls such a man would lead others into, but I couldn't drive my tongue to it. I had gone too far in dilating on his wrongs for that, and then I caught sight of Cynthia's face. I read it. I read through it down into the depths of her soul. What I was saying was only making her glory in the prospect of self-sacrifice in his behalf. When I saw that--when I realized that it will take a miracle of God to snatch her from him, I felt everything swimming about me. Her flushed face, her sparkling, piercing eyes, drove me wild. I started in to attack him behind his back and was foiled in the effort. But I won't give up. I can't lose her--I _can't_, I tell you! She was made for me. I was made for her, and she would realize it if this devil's dream would pass.” Mrs. Porter sighed. “I don't know what to do,” she declared. “If I could trust him, I'd give in, but I can't. I can't let my only child go off with any man of his stamp, on those conditions. But I must run on--they are waiting for me. She must never suspect that this was done for her benefit.” It was the afternoon of the day set for the meeting between Cynthia and Floyd. Mrs. Porter, still carrying her weighty secret, went into town actuated by nothing but the hope that she might accidentally meet Hillhouse. He seemed to be on the lookout for her, for he came down the street from the village square and waited for her to join him near the hitching-rack and public trough for the watering of horses. “I was on the way to see you,” she said, looking about her cautiously, as if averse to being seen in his company. “In answer to my prayer,” he replied. “I'm suffering great agony, Sister Porter.” “Well, you are not any worse off than I am,” she made answer. “She's my only child.” He leaned towards her till his face was close to her own. “Something must be done,” he said. “I'm ready for anything. I can't bear it any longer. Last night the devil rose in me and conquered me. I was ready to kill him.”