When supper was over they drew their chairs to the fire-place and talked, that is, all except Hannah, who busied herself in clearing the table and making ready the guest-chamber. Then Elizabeth told John Estaugh how it was that she had come to live on the farm alone, except for her two faithful servants, secure in the belief that her duty lay here in the desert.

Thus they talked till bed-time, and at daybreak Joseph cleared a pathway through the snow-drifts and made ready to conduct the stranger to his destination. Elizabeth and John bade each other farewell at the gate, the latter promising to return for the Meeting in May.

Time went on, till at length the cold winter was at an end and balmy spring came over the land, bringing the song of birds and covering the earth with flowers. One pleasant morning in May a long procession of men and women, among them John Estaugh, came riding past on their way to the Meeting in the neighboring town. On the way they halted at Elizabeth's farm to rest and partake of the rye bread, currant wine, and honey fresh from the hives, which were offered to them in generous abundance. Then Elizabeth, Hannah, and Joseph mounted their horses and prepared to set out with the others, but when they had started, Elizabeth lingered a little behind and whispered to John, "Tarry a while, for I have something to tell thee which must not be lightly spoken in the presence of others since it concerns me and thee only."

Slowly they rode through the woods together, and the morning was so bright and fair that it was a pleasure just to be alive. Then Elizabeth said slowly, as if it were a secret she felt compelled to reveal, though she would fain have kept it hidden: "I will no longer conceal what is laid upon me to tell thee; I have received from the Lord a charge to love thee, John Estaugh."

Somewhat surprised at the frank words the maiden had spoken, John made answer: "All thy ways, thy words and meekness of spirit are indeed pleasant to me, but as yet I have no voice to direct me in this matter. When the work which the Lord has appointed for me is ended, I will commune with my own heart and wait for its guidance."

Then Elizabeth said tranquilly: "It is best so. We will not speak further on the matter, but I had to tell thee this, for to-morrow thou art going away across the sea and I know not when I shall see thee again. But, if God wills, thou wilt return again to seek me and will find me still here." And they rode onward in silence to join the others and entered the town in their company.

Thus Elizabeth and John met and parted once more like "Ships that pass in the night, and speak to each other in passing." The quiet life in the homestead went on just as it had done before. Always thoughtful and kind to others, Elizabeth lived and worked on her lonely farm, ever patient and uncomplaining. And Hannah too, urged by her mistress's example, was never idle; early and late she was always to be found at work, washing, scouring, or cooking, till her cheeks grew rosy from her exertions.

She amused herself by teasing Joseph and, though at heart she was really very fond of him, whenever he attempted to make love to her, she would never listen seriously, but always laugh at him and make fun of his clumsy devotion. This was quite unlike the way a demure Puritan maiden should conduct herself, and at times Elizabeth was obliged to chide her housemaid for her light behavior.