"Does she always pray as fervently as she did to-night?" was Albert's next query.
"Oh, yes, that's her way," was the answer; "father says she is a little cracked about such matters. He pities her, though, and helps her a good deal, and so does 'most every one else here who can. She needs it." Then after a pause she added, "How did you enjoy the meeting, Mr. Page?"
"Well," replied Albert slowly, and mentally contrasting it with many Sunday services when he had occupied a pew with the Nasons at their fashionable church in Boston, "it has been an experience I shall not soon forget. In one way it has been a pleasure, for it has taken me back to my young days." Then he added a little sadly, "It has also been a pain, for it recalled my mother and how she used to pray that I might grow to be a good man."
"You are not a bad man, are you?" responded Telly at once, looking curiously at him.
"Oh, no; I hope not," he answered, smiling, "I try to do as I would be done by, but the good people here might think I was, maybe, because I am not a professor of religion. For that reason I should be classed as one of the sinners, I presume."
"Well, so is father," responded Telly, "but that doesn't make him one. Deacon Oaks calls him a scoffer, but I know he trusts him in all money matters, and I think father is the best and kindest man in the world. He has been so good and kind to me I would almost lie down and die for him, if necessary."
It was an expression of feeling that was not surprising to Albert, knowing as he did her history, but he felt it unwise to discuss it. "How do you feel about this matter of belief?" he asked after a pause. "Are you what this old lady would call a believer, Miss Terry?"
"Oh, no," she replied slowly, "I fear I am not. I always go to meeting Sundays when there is one,—mother and I,—and once in a while to the Thursday evening prayer-meeting. I think it's because I enjoy the singing."
When they reached the point Albert could not restrain his desire to enjoy the society of this unaffected, simple, and beautiful girl a little longer. The moon that Frank had planned to use was high overhead, and away out over the still ocean stretched a broadening path of silvery sheen, while at their feet, where the ground swells were breaking upon the rocks, every splash of foam looked like snow-white wool.
"If it's not asking too much, Miss Terry," said Albert with utmost politeness, "won't you walk out to the top of the cliff and sit down a few moments, while I enjoy a cigar? The night is too beautiful to turn away from at once."