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Updated: May 29, 2025
"I have no doubt there'll be a letter for me from John at the post-office, and I will get it as we go through the village. I'll have that to read." "It will hardly last all the way to Lockhaven," Lois commented. "Oh, yes, it will," answered Helen, with a ripple of joy in her tone, which, for pure gladness, was almost laughter. "You don't know, Lois!"
One by one, the accusations of the elders repeated themselves to him, and he made no protest. His assenting conscience left him absolutely defenseless. There was a strange unreality about Helen's wakening, the first morning in Ashurst. The year in Lockhaven seemed to have made as little change as a dream. Here she was, back in her old room. How familiar everything looked!
Though Davis was not one of his flock, he had the same reverence for the preacher which his congregation felt. All Lockhaven loved and feared John Ward. John had not spoken, even though a little boy, building block houses on a heap of sawdust near the men, had come up and taken his hand with a look of confident affection.
He listened to what she said of her uncle's little Episcopal church in Ashurst, and heard her laugh good-naturedly about the rector's sermons, and then thought of the doctrines which were preached from his own pulpit in Lockhaven.
Dick Forsythe had not come to Ashurst, and Helen said plainly that she knew Lois was not engaged to him. So why should not Gifford himself be on the spot? "Not that I would bother Lois," he argued in his own mind, "but just to know if" And besides, he really ought to see the two little ladies. He left Lockhaven a few days after John Ward had preached his sermon on foreign missions at Chester.
It did not take Gifford Woodhouse very long to get settled in Lockhaven. His office and bedroom constituted his household, and Miss Deborah never knew that her bags of lavender were not even taken out of the trunk, and that the hard-featured Irishwoman who "came in by the day" never saw the paper of directions, written, that she might be able to read it easily, in Miss Deborah's small, neat hand.
She sat down in a splint rocking-chair, and watched her guest brush out her length of shining bronze hair, and twist it in a firm coil low on her neck. "It was a good gathering," she said; "people came from a distance to hear Mr. Ward. The folks at Lockhaven are favored to listen to such preaching." "No doubt they feel favored to have Mr.
"So you see," she ended, "I cannot go back to Lockhaven." Lois, walking back and forth, as impatient as her father might have been, listened, her eyes first filling with tears, and then flashing angrily. She threw herself on her knees beside Helen, as she finished, and put her arms about her cousin's waist, kissing her listless hands in a passion of sympathy.
At Lockhaven the river had been frozen over for a month, even above the bridge and the mills, where the current was swiftest. Long lines of sawdust, which had been coiling and whirling in the eddies, or stretching across the black seething water, were caught in the ice, or blown about with the powdered snow over its surface.
"Denner has two trout. Fate was against me. Any fishing about Lockhaven, Gifford? Ward do any?" Gifford laughed. "He only fishes for men," he said. "He devotes himself to it day and night. Especially of late; his fear of hell-fire for other people's souls has seemed to take great hold on him." "Gad!" said Dr. Howe. "He's a queer fellow." "He's a good fellow," Gifford answered warmly.
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