!" she said, almost tearfully. "You see, you couldn't
get across."

The Pilot staggered to his feet, took a step toward her, gasped out:

"I can!" and pitched headlong. With a little cry she flew to him, and
turned him over on his back. In a few moments he revived, sat up, and
looked about stupidly.

"Where's Louis?" he said, with his face toward the swollen stream.

"Safe enough," she answered; "but you must come in, the rain is just
going to pour."

But The Pilot seemed possessed.

"No, I'm going across," he said, rising.

Gwen was greatly distressed.

"But your poor horse," she said, cleverly changing her ground; "he is
quite tired out."

The Old Timer now joined earnestly in urging him to stay till the storm
was past. So, with a final look at the stream, The Pilot turned toward
the house.

Of course I knew what would happen. Before the evening was over he had
captured the household. The moment he appeared with dry things on he ran
to the organ, that had stood for ten years closed and silent, opened
it and began to play. As he played and sang song after song, the Old
Timer's eyes began to glisten under his shaggy brows. But when he
dropped into the exquisite Irish melody, "Oft in the Stilly Night," the
old man drew a hard breath and groaned out to me:

"It was her mother's song," and from that time The Pilot had him fast.
It was easy to pass to the old hymn, "Nearer, My God, to Thee," and then
The Pilot said simply, "May we have prayers?" He looked at Gwen, but she
gazed blankly at him and then at her father.

"What does he say, dad?"

It was pitiful to see the old man's face grow slowly red under the deep
tan, as he said:

"You may, sir. There's been none here for many years, and the worse for
us." He rose slowly, went into the inner room and returned with a Bible.

"It's her mother's," he said, in a voice deep with emotion. "I put it
in her trunk the day I laid her out yonder under the pines." The Pilot,
without looking at him, rose and reverently took the book in both his
hands and said gently:

"It was a sad day for you, but for her--" He paused. "You did not grudge
it to her?"

"Not now, but then, yes! I wanted her, we needed her." The Old Timer's
tears were flowing.

The Pilot put his hand caressingly upon the old man's shoulder as if he
had been his father, and said in his clear, sweet voice, "Some day you
will go to her."

Upon this scene poor Gwen gazed with eyes wide open with amaz