from everybody.

Finding that she still kept away from the school, I resolved one night
to call at the Squire's. It was some time after dark when I reached
there; and as I stood in the porch, brushing the snow from my boots, I
became aware of loud talking in the kitchen. Poor Rachel! both Mrs.
Brewster and Sarah were upon her, laughing and sneering about her
"setting her cap" for the schoolmaster, and accusing her of trying to
get him to come home with her, of moving for him to sit down by her
side! Once I heard Rachel's voice,--"Oh, please don't talk so! I don't
do as you say. It is dreadful for you to talk so!" I judged it better to
defer my call, and walked slowly along the road. It was not very cold,
and I sat down upon the stone wall. I sat down to think. Presently
Rachel herself hurried by, carrying a pitcher. She was bound on some
errand up the road. I called out,--

"Rachel, stop!"

She turned, in affright, and, upon seeing me, hurried the more. But I
overtook her, and placed her arm within mine in a moment, saying,--

"Rachel, you are not afraid of me, I hope!"

"Oh, no, Sir! no, indeed!" she exclaimed.

"And yet you run away from me."

She made no answer.

"Rachel," I said, at last, "I wish you would talk to me freely. I wish