fellow, with taking ways about him, but he was drunken and profane,
and nobody knew anything about his past life. He fascinated Missy. He
kept coming to see her until her father forbade him the house. Then
our poor, foolish child used to meet him elsewhere. We found this out
afterwards. And at last she ran away with him, and they were married
over at Peterboro and went there to live, for Bert had got work there.
We--we were too hard on Missy. But her father was so dreadful hurt
about it. He'd been so fond and proud of her, and he felt that she had
disgraced him. He disowned her, and sent her word never to show her
face here again, for he'd never forgive her. And I was angry too. I
didn't send her any word at all. Oh, how I've wept over that! If I had
just sent her one little word of forgiveness, everything might have
been different. But Father forbade me to.

"Then in a little while there was a dreadful trouble. A woman came to
Peterboro and claimed to be Bert Williams's wife--and she was--she
proved it. Bert cleared out and was never seen again in these parts.
As soon as we heard about it Father relented, and I went right down
to Peterboro to see Missy and bring her home. But she wasn't
there--she had gone, nobody knew where. I got a letter from her the
next week. She said her heart was broken, and she knew we would never
forgive her, and she couldn't face the disgrace, so she was going away
where nobody would ever find her. We did everything we could to trace
her, but we never could. We've never heard from her since, and it is
fifteen years ago. Sometimes I am afraid she is dead, but then again I
feel sure she isn't. Oh, Camilla, if I could only find my poor child
and bring her home!

"This was her room. And when she went away I made up my mind I would
keep it for her just as she left it, and I have up to now. Nobody has
ever been inside the door but myself. I've always hoped that Missy
would come home, and I would lead her up here and say, 'Missy, here is
your room just as you left it, and here is your place in your mother's
heart just as you left it,' But she never came. I'm afraid she never
will."

Mrs. Falconer dropped her face in her hands and sobbed softly. Camilla
came over to her and put her arms about her.

"I think she will," she said. "I think--I am sure your love and
prayers will bring Missy home yet. And I understand how good you have
been in giving me her room--oh, I know what it must have cost you!