way home. I hope you will not miss him. That is," she added, while a sudden flush of color spread over her face, "I want you to see him ta-day. I beg you won't take my words as intended for a dismissal."
"Not now, certainly," said Joseph. But he rose from his seat as he spoke.
Madeline looked both confused and pained. "I know that I spoke awkwardly," she said, "but indeed I was very anxious. It was also Lucy's wish. "We have been talking about you this morning."
"You are very kind. And yet—I ought to wish you a more cheerful subject."
What was it in Madeline's face that haunted Joseph on his way home? The lightsome spirit was gone from her eyes, and they were troubled as if by the pressure of tears, held back by a strong effort. Her assumed calmness at parting seemed to cover a secret anxiety; he had never before seen her bright, free nature so clouded.
Philip, meanwhile, had reached the farm, where he was received by Rachel Miller.
"I am glad to find that Joseph is not at home," he said; "there are some things which I need to discuss with you, before I see him. Can you guess what they are? Have you heard nothing,—no stories?"
Rachel's face grew pale, yet there was a strong fire of indignation in her eyes. "Dennis told me an outrageous report he had heard in the. village," she said: "if you mean the same thing, you did well to see me first. You can help me to keep this insult from Joseph's knowledge."
"If I could I would, Miss Rachel. I share your feeling about it; but suppose the report were now so extended—and of course in a more exaggerated form the farther it
