elieve that's the
way I shall go."

It was a radiant June afternoon and as we drove back along the familiar
lane toward the hills softened by the mist, we looked away over a valley
throbbing with life and rich with the shining abundance of growing
grain--a rich and peaceful and lovely valley to me--but how much more it
all meant to my father! Every hill had its memories, every turn in the
road opened a vista into the past. The mill, the covered bridge, the
lonely pine by the river's bank,--all, all spoke to him of those he had
loved and lost.

With guilty reluctance I confessed that the return of the children had
again been postponed. "Mrs. Morris cannot tell just when she will
return--I fear not before the first of September. It is a wonderful
opportunity for the children to see the mountains. I could not afford to
take them on such a trip--much as I should like to do so--and there is
no telling when such another opportunity will offer. Mary Isabel is just
at the right age to remember all she sees and a summer in the mountains
will mean much to her in after life. Even Constance will be profoundly
changed by it. Zulime is sorry to disappoint you but she feels that it
would be wrong to refuse such an opportunity."

He made no complaint, offered no further opposition, he only said gently
and sadly, "Don't let them stay away too long. I want them here part of
the summer. I miss them terribly--and you must remember my time on earth
is nearly ended."

"We shall all be here in August," I assured him, "and I may return late
in July."

This was the twelfth of June and as I left the house for the train the
picture of that lonely, white-haired man, sitting at the window, took
away all the anticipation of pleasure with which our expedition had
filled my mind. I was minded to decline the wondrous opportunity and
send the children to the old Homestead and their grandsire.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

A Soldier of the Union Mustered Out

On my return to Chicago, I made good report of Father's condition and
said nothing of his forebodings, for I wanted Zulime to start on her
vacation in entire freedom from care. Had it not been for my lecture
engagements I might not have gone with them, but as certain dates were
fixed, I bought tickets for myself on the same train which Mrs. Morris
had taken, and announced my intention to travel with the party at least
as far as Sheridan. "I want to watch the children's faces and hear thei