A passion of horrified grief swept across his face; he seemed unconscious of the elder's presence.

Mr.Dean looked at him, not certain what to do or say; he had quite forgotten Alfaretta's "notice." At last the preacher raised his head.
"You have said enough," he said, in a low voice; "now go," and he pointed with a shaking finger to the door.

"Go!" he repeated.
The elder hesitated, then slowly put on his hat and stumbled from the room.

John did not notice his outstretched hand, but followed him blindly to the door, and locked it after him.
The full blaze of sunshine flooded the room with its pitiless mirth; it was wilting the dish of violets, and he moved it to the shaded end of the table.
* * * * * Alfaretta, peering out of her attic window, and wiping her eyes on the corner of the dimity curtain which hid her, saw the elder walk out of the parsonage and through the little gateway, with shame written on his drooping shoulders and in his hurried, shambling steps.

He never once looked back..