It was the first wrong that he had ever overlooked. He found forgiveness easy to be exercised, and very sweet. She stole a shy look at his face. “That’s powerful good in ye,” she said softly. “I war jes’ a-talkin’ ter be a-talkin’, an’”— Their shadows, close together, followed them over the shining grass, and for a time they were silent as they approached the group on the porch. He paused abruptly, and looked down at her. “An’ I don’t want ye ter be aggervatin’ yerse’f by ’lowin’ ez I ain’t goin’ ter do all I kin fur Eli in the ’lection. What ye said ain’t goin’ ter hender. I’ll vote fur him, an’ git all others I kin ter do likewise.” Marcella began to experience a sensation as of coals of fire heaped upon the head. She could only murmur, “I war jes’ a-talkin’ ter be a-talkin’.” That night, from time to time, as the hours wore on and the house was still, the little owl in the apple-tree lifted its voice and shrilled aloud, and laughed in sinister and chuckling mirth, while the moon slowly climbed the skies. And Mrs. Strobe, turning on an uneasy pillow, evolved bitter reflections concerning the inefficiency of the present generation. “Sen’ two hearty young folks—one of ’em mos’ seven feet high ’ceptin’ what’s lackin’—down inter a orchard ter fling a apple at a ow-_el_ an’ drive him off,—an’ a body would think they hed invited the critter ter bide ter supper, an’ sing hyme chunes arterward.” VI. Whatever might be the character of the nocturnal visitant of the forge, it seemed safe enough in the broad glare of sunlight; and as it was the voting-place of the district, it was by no means deserted on that momentous Thursday in August when the election was held. Marcella had felt throughout the canvass the terrible strain of suspense, but when the day had drawn near she was deprecatory of decision, and wished that if the worst must be it might not be at once. “A body would ’low, ter hear ye a-goin’ on, that Eli war ter be hung ter-day,” her grandmother remarked, tartly. “He ain’t los’ a ounce o’ flesh nor a hour o’ sleep sence he war a candidate, an’ he went off from hyar this mornin’ high-colored ez common. An’ look at you-uns—big-eyed, an’ pale-faced, an’ lean-lookin’, an’ fluttery—drapped the blue bowl an’ bruk it in two; an’ Is’bel patterns arter ye, till thar ain’t no ch’ice fur a fool ’twixt ye. Shucks! I mus’ be mistaken,” sarcastically; “they be goin’ surely ter hang Eli.”