"Wait a moment," said Lyman, as the young minister moved toward the steps leading to the dooryard. "Did the banker forgive you?"
The young man stood with his umbrella under the edge of the roof, and the rain rumbled upon it. "No, sir. He said I had done his family a vital injury. I told him I might have been an instrument in the hands of a higher power, and he sneered at me. I hope you forgive me, Mr. Lyman."
"To be frank, I am secretly glad that it happened," Lyman replied.
"But not maliciously or even mischievously glad, I hope," said the preacher.
"No, I am glad for other reasons, but I cannot explain them."
The rain rumbled upon the umbrella and the preacher was silent for a moment. "Mr. McElwin said that if I could induce you to sign the petition he would forgive me. And I told him I would. Will you sign it?"
"I cannot, Mr. Bostic."
"May I ask why?"
"Because I stand as the young woman's protector. She despises Sawyer, and her father was determined that she should be his wife."
"Did she tell you, sir?"