When Tera left the room, Johnson felt a strange calm stealing over him. His mad passion seemed to be wearing itself out by its own violence. No longer did he feel despair when Tera left his side, and he hoped that when called upon to fulfil his projected sacrifice he would be able to do it with calmness and dignity. It was with a feeling of relief to him that his malady of the heart was passing away. Soon he would be a free man; would be able to attend to his religious duties as of yore unhindered by the storm and stress of a hopeless love. He would return to his studies, to his old meditative life. But Miss Arnott? As the thought of her entered his mind, Johnson recalled his debts and the burden of gratitude which she had placed on his shoulders. Unless he could discharge that claim, by repaying the money she had lent him--and Johnson knew not where to obtain so large a sum--he feared the discharge would have to take the form of marriage. The idea dismayed him, still it was not so unpalatable to him as it had been. At this point his meditations were interrupted by the appearance of Mrs. Slade, who was ushered in by his mother. The poor little woman's black eyes were red with weeping, and she seemed to be greatly agitated. Terror struck at Johnson's heart; for so many ills had befallen him that he quite expected more to follow. The sight of Mrs. Slade in this tearful condition made him fear she was a messenger of evil. "What is the matter?" he asked, rising nervously when they were alone. "Oh, sir," cried Mrs. Slade, dropping limply into a chair, "I know you ain't no parson of mine, as I was brought up in the Church of England. But you're the only parson that I can come to for advice. You are her friend, you know." "Whose friend?" "That Bithiah--Tera--oh, I don't know what her heathen name is, but she's a minx if ever there was one." "Mrs. Slade, I cannot hear Bithiah spoken of like this. Why do you cry? What have you to urge against her?" "Jeremiah!" said Mrs. Slade, and began to weep anew. "Your husband?" said Johnson, beginning to feel impatient--for after all she did not belong to Bethgamul; "what of him?" "He's a beast!" "Did you come here to tell me that? I must confess I take no interest in your domestic affairs, Mrs. Slade." The little woman's eyes began to glitter with ominous fire. "Now don't you be nasty, sir. It's all your fault." "What is all my fault?" "Jeremiah's goings on. Why did you bring that horrid nigger girl, as isn't respectable, to this place, with her dirty heathen ways? I thought it was Zara Lovell," lamented Mrs. Slade, "as he was after. But she's dead, they tell me--killed in mistake for your heathen. But it's not Zara, it never was her--though I've called her all the names I could lay my tongue to." Mrs. Slade's voice jumped an octave and she shook with rage. "It's your Bithiah!" "What do you mean?" cried the minister, now really angry. "Bithiah is engaged to marry Finland. Do you dare to----"