“Can’t you, Melissa?” She shook her head again. Isaac Penfield’s face turned white. He touched the whip to the mare, and she gave a sharp bound forward. They had not much farther to go. Neither of them spoke again until Isaac assisted Melissa out of the chaise at her own gate. “Good-bye,” he said then, shortly. Melissa looked up at him and caught her breath. She could not speak. Isaac sprang into his chaise, and was out of the yard with a sharp grate of wheels, and she went into the house. Her mother was setting chairs in order for the evening meeting. She looked up sharply as Melissa entered. “Who was that brought you home?” said she. “Isaac Penfield,” replied Melissa, turning her face from her mother’s eyes. “I hope you ain’t letting your thoughts dwell on anything of that kind now,” said her mother. “I met him as I was coming out of the store, and he asked me to ride. I sha’n’t ever see him again,” Melissa returned, faintly. The deaf-and-dumb boy had been dozing with gaping mouth in his chimney-corner. Now he waked, and caught sight of his sister and the basket, and hastened to her with a cry of uncouth hunger and greediness. “In a minute, sonny,” Melissa said, in a sobbing voice; “wait a minute.” She held the basket aloof while she removed her hood and shawl. “You may see him on his way to the outer darkness,” said her mother, with solemn vindictiveness. “Mother, he has repented; he is a member of the church,” Melissa cried out, with sudden sharpness. “Repentance avails nothing without faith,” returned her mother, setting down a chair so heavily that the deaf-and-dumb boy started at the concussion and looked about him wonderingly. “He has repented; he is a member of the church; he is safe,” Melissa cried again. “I tell you he is not,” said her mother. Melissa went into the pantry with her brother at her elbow, and prepared for him a plate of bread and molasses. The tears fell over her cheeks, but Alonzo noticed nothing. His greedy eyes were fixed on the food. When it was ready for him he sat down on his stool in the chimney-corner and devoured it with loud smacks of his lips. That was all the evening meal prepared in the Lennox house that night. After the chairs were set in order for the meeting, Melissa and her mother sat down close to the fire and sewed on some white stuff which flowed in voluminous folds over their knees to the floor. Solomon came in presently, and seated himself with the great Bible on his knees. He read silently, but now and then gesticulated fiercely, as if he read aloud. The meeting began at half-past six. About a quarter of an hour before, the outer door was heard opening, and there was a shuffling step and a clearing cough in the entry. “It’s your uncle Simeon,” whispered Mrs. Lennox to Melissa, and her mouth took on a severer tension. Solomon frowned over the Holy Writ on his knee.