leave me behind, and I knew he needed the chance.

The women all began to exclaim against it,--all but Margaret. She turned
pale, and kept silence. That was Friday. The vessel would sail Monday.
Mother was greatly troubled, but said, if I would go, she must make me
comfortable; and all night I could hear her opening and shutting the
bureau-drawers. Margaret stopped with Mary: I think they sewed till near
morning.

The next evening the singers met in the vestry, to practise the tunes
for the Sabbath. We all sat in the singing-seats. I played the small
bass-viol. Jamie sang counter, and the girls treble. Margaret had a
sweet voice,--not very powerful. She sat in the seats because the other
girls did.

I went home with her that night. She seemed so sad, so tender in her
manner, that I came near speaking,--came near telling her how much she
was to me, and owning my feeling about Jamie. But I didn't quite.
Something kept me from it. If there is such a thing as fate, 'twas that.

Going home, however, I made a resolution that the next night I would
certainly know, from her own lips, whether it was me she liked, or
Jamie.

I walked slowly home, and directly up-stairs to bed. I lay awake a long
time, heard father and mother go to their chamber, then Mary and Sophy
to theirs. At last I wondered what had become of Jamie.

I pushed aside the window-curtain and looked out. 'Twas bright
moonlight. I saw Jamie coming over the hill from Mr. Nathaniel's. He