l reason why I
must go, and so I have to see her now; but I want to show you the man's
face, and then you can read the story.'

"You see, I knew if I started to read it he would stop me; but if I left
him alone with it he would be so curious he would finish. So I turned
your name under and held the paper and said, 'What do you think of that
face, grandfather? Study it carefully,' and, Man, only guess what he
said! He said, 'I think it is the face of one of nature's noblemen.' I
just kissed him time and again and then I said, 'So it is grandfather,
so it is; for it is the face of the man who twice saved my life, and
lifted my mother from almost a pauper grave and laid her to rest
in state, and the man who found you, and sent me to you when I was
determined not to come.' And I just stood and kissed that paper before
him and cried, again and again, 'He is one of nature's noblemen, and he
is my husband, my dear, dear husband and to-morrow I am going home
to him.' Then I laid the paper on his lap and ran away. I went to
grandmother and did everything she wanted, then I dressed for the ball.
I went to say good-bye to her and show my dress and grandfather was
there, and he followed me out and said, 'Ruth, you didn't mean it?' I
said, 'Did you read the paper, grandfather?' and he said 'Yes'; and I
said, 'Then I should think you would know I mean it, and glory in my
wonderful luck. Think of a man like that, grandfather!'

"I went to the ball, and I danced and had a lovely time with every one,
because I knew it was going to be the very last, and to-morrow I must
start to you.

"On the way home I told Mr. Kennedy what paper to get and to read it. I
said good-bye to him, and I really think he cared, but I was too happy
to be very sorry. When I reached my room there was a packet for me and,
Man, like David of old, you are a wonderful poet! Oh Harvester! why
didn't you send them to me instead of the cold, hard things you wrote?"

"What do you mean, Ruth?"

"Those letters! Those wonderful outpourings of love and passion and
poetry and song and broken-heartedness. Oh Man, how could you write such
things and throw them in the fire? Granny Moreland found them when she
came to bring you a pie, and she carried them to Doctor Carey, and he
sent them to me, and, David, they finished me. Everything came in a
heap. I would have come without them, but never, never with quite the
understanding, for as I read them the deeps opened up, and th