"Who speaks of it ?" "Oh dear, dear me!" moaned the minister pathetically.

"Sad!.

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very sad to see so ungovernable a temper, so wild and untrained a disposition! Alas, alas! how frail we are without the Lord's support,--without the strong staff of the Lord's mercy to lean upon! Not I, my poor child, not I, but the whole village speaks of you; to you the ignorant people attribute all the sundry evils that of late have fallen sorely upon them,--bad harvests, ill-luck with the fishing, poverty, sickness,"-- here Mr.Dyceworthy pressed the tips of his fingers delicately together, and looked at her with a benevolent compassion,--"and they call it witchcraft,--yes! strange, very strange! But so it is,--ignorant as they are, such ignorance is not easily enlightened,--and though I," he sighed, "have done my poor best to disabuse their minds of the suspicions against you, I find it is a matter in which I, though a humble mouthpiece of the Gospel, am powerless--quite powerless!" She relaxed her defiant attitude, and moved away from him; the shadow of a smile was on her lips.
"It is not my fault if the people are foolish," she said coldly; "I have never done harm to any one that I know of." And turning abruptly, she seemed about to enter the house, but the minister dexterously placed himself in her way, and barred her passage.
"Stay, oh, stay!" he exclaimed with unctuous fervor.