'There was a man among us,--I have not said much of the individual characters of our party, but this man was one of the least esteemed, or rather liked; there was not much esteem of any kind at Little Fishing. Little was known about him; although the youngest man in the camp, he was a mooning, brooding creature, with brown hair and eyes and a melancholy face. He wasn't hearty and whole-souled, and yet he wasn't an out-and-out rascal; he wasn't a leader, and yet he wasn't follower either. He wouldn't be; he was like a third horse, always. There was no goodness about him; don't go to fancying that that was the reason the men did not like him, he was as bad as they were, every inch! He never shirked his work, and they couldn't get a handle on him anywhere; but he was just--unpopular. The why and the wherefore are of no consequence now. Well, do you know what was the suspicion that hovered over the camp? It was this: our Lady loved that man! 'It took three months for all to see it, and yet never a word was spoken. All saw, all heard; but they might have been blind and deaf for any sign they gave. And the Lady drooped more and more. 'September came, the fifteenth; the Lady lay on her couch, pale and thin; the door was open and a bell stood beside her, but there was no line of pickets whispering tidings of her state to an anxious group outside. The turf in the three streets had grown yellow for want of water, the flowers in the little gardens had drooped and died, the fountain was choked with weeds, and the interiors of the houses were all untidy. It was Sunday, and near the hour for service; but the men lounged about, dingy and unwashed. '"A'n't you going to church?" said Salem, stopping at the door of one of the houses; he was dressed in his best, with a flower in his button-hole. '"See him now! See the fool," said Black Andy. 'He's going to church, he is! And where's the minister, Salem? Answer me that!' 'Why,--in the church, I suppose,' replied Salem, vacantly. '"No, she a'n't; not she! She's at home, a-weeping, and a-wailing, and a-ger-nashing her teeth," replied Andy with bitter scorn. '"What for?" said Salem. '"What for? Why, that's the joke! Hear him, boys; he wants to know what for!" 'The loungers laughed,--a loud, reckless laugh. '"Well, I'm going anyway," said Salem, looking wonderingly from one to the other; he passed on and entered the church. '"I say, boys, let's have a high old time," cried Andy savagely. "Let's go back to the old way and have a jolly Sunday. Let's have out the jugs and the cards and be free again!" 'The men hesitated; ten months and more of law and order held them back. '"What are you afraid of?" said Andy. "Not of a canting hypocrite, I hope. She's fooled us long enough, I say. Come on!" He brought out a table and stools, and produced the long-unused cards and a jug of whiskey. 'Strike up, Jack,' he cried; give us old Fiery-Eyes.'