re them with others, without obliging him to prefer the
request, and with as little worry to him as possible. He would find them
ready to share his trials, and in what must be the scene of their work
hereafter.

"It will bring father back," said Christie; "he won't leave us here
alone; and then together we must come to some understanding with
him--with THEM--for somehow I feel as if this house belonged to us no
longer."

Her surmise was not far wrong. When Mr. Carr arrived hurriedly from
Sacramento the next evening, he found the house deserted. His daughters
were gone; there were indications that they had arrived, and, for some
reason, suddenly departed. The vague fear that had haunted his guilty
soul after receiving their letter, and during his breathless journey,
now seemed to be realized. He was turning from the empty house, whose
reproachful solitude frightened him, when he was confronted on the
threshold by the figure of Fairfax Munroe.

"I came to the stage office to meet you," he said; "you must have left
the stage at the summit."

"I did," said Carr angrily. "I was anxious to meet my daughters quickly,
to know the reason of their foolish alarm, and to know also who had been
frightening them. Where are they?"

"They are safe in the old cabin beyond, that has been put up ready to
receive them again," said Fairfax quietly.

"But what is the meaning of this? Why are they not here?" demanded Carr,
hiding his agitation in a burst of querulous rage.

"Do YOU ask, Mr. Carr?" said Fairfax sadly. "Did you expect them to
remain here until the sheriff took possession? No one knows better than
yourself that the money advanced you on the deeds of this homestead has
never been repaid."

Carr staggered, but recovered himself with feeble violence.

"Since you know so much of my affairs, how do you know that this claim
will ever be pressed for payment? How do you know it is not the advance
of a--a--friend?"

"Because I have seen the woman who advanced it," said Fairfax
hopelessly. "She was here to look at the property before your daughters
came."

"Well?" said Carr nervously.

"Well! You force me to tell you something I should like to forget. You
force me to anticipate a disclosure I expected to make to you only when
I came to ask permission to woo your daughter Jessie; and when I tell
you what it is, you will understand that I have no right to criticise
your conduct. I am only explaining my own."

"Go on," said