"Oh, I know he hath not the brutal outside of his brother, but, Elinor, I count him falser at heart. You don't always see a snake, but you trace his course by the rippling of the grass. Something always goes wrong when Ralph Ingle is about. Trust him not with thy little finger, much less thy hand in marriage." "Listen, then, Margaret, and thou wilt rejoice with me and understand the better my lightness of spirit this night when I tell thee that yester morning Ralph Ingle renounced me, told me I was too cold for any love save for a dead man,--God help me, that is true,--then suddenly, as if carried beyond his own control, he seized me in his arms and kissed me, and then flung through the doorway. At the door he turned once more and said, 'Elinor, thy day of grace is ended!' "I was much angered by his free manner, and I answered,-- "'If the day of grace be the day of thy company, the sooner ended the better.' "'I am going away,' he said. "For answer I but courtesied, with a great gladness at my heart. "'The time may come when thou wilt beg me to wed thee.' "I laughed. "'Till that time comes I will never speak of marriage more,' he said. Then with one devouring glance, he bowed low and left the house, and Sheriff Ellyson told me to-day that he saw him with three men making down the river in a pinnace. Pray Heaven, he is gone forever!" "Ay, pray Heaven; but keep thy wits at work none the less, and never believe that an Ingle means what he says. They say only what they wish thee to believe; and as for Ralph Ingle giving thee up, he has about as much intention on't as my gray cat, that withdraws into the dark and lets her victim mouse play about till she's ready for the spring." "Cousin, thou art suspicious." "Say rather, watchful." "'Tis all one." "Nay. If thou art watchful, thou mayst find there is no cause for suspicion." Elinor sat looking at the woman opposite her. Dead silence fell between them, till at last, with a cry, Elinor threw herself on her knees at her cousin's side. "Love me, Margaret! Try to love me! There are so few to love me now!" It was as if the cry of Elinor's full heart broke down the barriers that had somehow raised themselves between her and Margaret Brent. A single word had laid them low, never to rise again. "I do love thee; I do," whispered Margaret, folding her arms close about Elinor. "Poor child! Life hath been a hard school for thee." "And I an unruly scholar," murmured Elinor, smiling through her tears. "Perchance; most of us are. But now shalt thou give proof of thy new-found spirit of obedience by obeying me, and getting this weary body of thine into bed. Hark! the watchman is crying ten of the clock." With a certain joy in being bidden like a little child, Elinor rose and moved to her chamber. It is, however, one thing to go to bed, and quite another to go to sleep. Strive as she would, she could not shake off the sombre shadow of Margaret's words.