Who has not felt the invitation, silent, persistent, of a road that leads through a lonely land to the unseen beyond the hill?
Susannah was again alone in the house; this time Ephraim was absent with his mother, and her uncle was at the mill.

On the white road she saw a man approaching whose dress showed him to be Smith's Quaker convert, Angel Halsey, a name she had conned till it had become familiar.

He did not pass, but opened the gate of the small garden path and came up between the two borders of sweet-smelling box.

In the garden China asters, zenias, and prince's feather, dahlias, marigolds, and love-lies-bleeding were falling over one another in luxuriant waste.

The young man neither looked to night nor to left.