"Keep still, Ann," he whispered. "We are just outside heaven." "And you believe now--believe?" and she waited for his answer. "Believe, yes I believe. I must believe in the _Great Creator_. Nothin' less could have fashioned the soul of Ann Rutledge. From now on, eternally, I shall believe to my soul's salvation." "Out of the gloom into the light," she said softly. A few moments they stood as if not wishing to break some magic spell. Then he said, "You must run right home. We will not go out together; but from the door I will watch until you are well away, then I will follow." Another moment they tarried in the wide mill door as if loath to leave, then she went out. As she did so a small dark figure stepped around the corner of the mill. The next moment the voices of Davy and Sis Rutledge were heard calling, "Ann--Ann Rutledge!" "So that's the Mollie that ain't at the mill for no corn grindin'," the small man around the mill said to himself when Ann had answered the call. "Now who's the other bat?" A moment later the tall figure of Abe Lincoln emerged from the building and turned toward the hill. "Eh--eh--eh!" granted the man behind the corner. "He's a bar--he's a bar," and he slapped his foxed breeches and walked half-way up the hill with his coon-skin cap squeezed tightly under his arm as an expression of his joy. CHAPTER XXVII COVERING THE COALS When John Rutledge was consulted about the sending of Ann's proposed letter asking for a release from her engagement to John McNeil, he said, "What for? Hasn't he released you enough yet? He'll never answer it." "Don't be too hard on him, John," Mrs. Rutledge said. "He always seemed to know about manners." "Men have been killed for having no worse manners," Rutledge said dryly. "But we wouldn't want to be anything but fair," Ann pleaded. John Rutledge looked at her a moment. Then he reached out his hand and placed it on her red-gold hair. "Poor little, tender-hearted goose," he said, moving his hand up and down in awkward pats. "Go ahead if it will make you feel any better." So the letter was written, and approved by John Rutledge. Ann wrapped it in stout brown paper, tied it carefully with string, her father gave her the money to pay its way, and the postmaster mailed it for her. After the letter had been gone several weeks Ann began watching for a reply. Abe Lincoln also watched, and though no comment was made the matter was of tremendous importance to both of them. * * * * *