“Can you get a pair of horses and a carriage, or light wagon, to-night?” “I can,” replied Jacob. “And so as not to excite undue curiosity?” “I think so.” “Very well. Next, will you drive that team all night?” And Mrs. Allen played with the purse of gold, and let the coins it contained strike each other with a musical chink, very pleasant to the ear of Jacob Perkins. “You shall be paid handsomely for your trouble,” added the lady, as she fixed her beautiful blue eyes upon Jacob with an earnest, almost pleading look. “I hope there is nothing wrong,” said Jacob, as some troublesome suspicions began turning themselves over in his mind. “Nothing wrong, as God is my witness!” And Mrs. Allen lifted her pale face reverently upwards. “Forgive me, madam; I might have known that,” said Jacob. “And now, if you will give me your orders, they shall be obeyed to the letter.” “Thank you, my kind friend,” returned Mrs. Allen. “The service you are now about to render me, cannot be estimated in the usual way. To me, it will be far beyond all price.” She was agitated, and paused to recover herself. Then she resumed, with her usual calmness of manner-- “Bring the carriage here--driving with as little noise as possible--in half an hour. Be very discreet. Don't mention the matter even to your wife. You can talk with her as freely as you choose on your return from Boston.” “From Boston? Why, that is thirty miles away, at least!” “I know it, Jacob; but I must be in Boston early to-morrow morning. You know the road?” “Every foot of it.” “So much the better. And now go for the carriage.” Jacob Perkins arose. As he was turning to go, Mrs. Allen placed her hand upon his shoulder, and said-- “I can trust you, Mr. Perkins?” “Madam, you can,” was his reply; and he passed from the quiet house into the darkness without. The night was moonless, but the stars shone down from an unclouded sky. When Jacob Perkins found himself alone, and began to look this adventure full in the face, some unpleasant doubts touching the part he was about to play, intruded themselves upon his thoughts. He had seen the handsome stranger going daily to visit Mrs. Allen, for now nearly a week, and had listened to the town talk touching the matter, until his own mind was filled with the common idea, that something was wrong. And now, to be called on to drive Mrs. Allen to Boston, secretly, and under cover of the night, seemed so much like becoming a party to some act of folly or crime, that he gave way to hesitation, and began to seek for reasons that would justify his playing the lady false. Then came up the image of her sweet, reverent face, as she said so earnestly, “Nothing wrong, as God is my witness!” And his first purpose was restored.