s hands, and we grasped them happily.

"Oh! Mr. Barnett," I told him. "Indeed, it seems too good to be true."

"Dear young lady," he said, "nothing is ever too good to be true."

He was looking far away at the flaming sky, as if beyond it he had been
able to discern some wonderful vision. He surely believes in infinite
goodness, Aunt Jennie. His whole life is based upon his trust in it, and
it is very beautiful. His words carried with them a world of hope, and
suddenly I felt as if some great blessing were perhaps hovering above,
like the big, circling sea-birds, and might descend to me.

Then Dr. Johnson came out and greeted the little parson, who has taken a
great liking to him. Despite the great, dark circles around his eyes,
strained as they had been by so many weary hours of watching, the young
man's face was merry and boyish, for all that it gives promise of
splendid manliness, and it was good to see. As he came to us his steps
showed no signs of the fatigue he must have felt.

"He's awake," he announced. "He must have a great deal of rest and quiet
just now, but I am sure your presence would give him pleasure, Miss
Jelliffe. You won't let him talk very much, will you?"

"No," I promised, and could find no other words.

I moved towards the door, slowly, expecting the others to follow me, but
they never stirred. It was as if by some common consent they had
acknowledged some right of mine to enter alone. Suddenly my limbs began
to drag under me, as if I had been a tottering, old woman. I wondered
what his first look would say to me, what the first word from his lips
would portend? It seemed as if I were going in there like one who sought
some hidden treasure, knowing which door it lay behind but stricken with
fear lest some unseen Cerberus might be crouching in wait for the rash
seeker after happiness. Oh! Aunt Jennie! The tenseness of that moment!
The feeling that, like the _Snowbird_ a few days ago, I was moving
through a fog-hidden world of peril!

My nails were dug into the palms of my hands as I entered the shack, and
his head turned slowly as I came in, and in his eyes I saw the confession
his babbling had revealed to me. But then an expression of pain came
also, that made me involuntarily look at Frenchy's little crucifix on the
wall.

So I just kneeled down by him, and once more took that poor thin hand
within my own. I spoke very low, and in such a shaky voice, but very
quick, for fear I might not