nest sufferin's, and goes before 'em throwin' a
light over the deep waters that must be passed, and sort o' melts in and
loses itself in the ineffible radiance that streams out from acrost the
other side.

It is a curious light and a beautiful one. Isabelle jest journeyed in
its full radiance.

Wall, Isabelle would do what she sot out to do, you could see that by
her face. Krit had brought her photograph with him--he thought his eyes
of her--and I liked her looks first rate.

It wuz a beautiful face, with more than beauty in it too. It wuz
inteligent and serene, with the serenity of the sweet soul within. And
it had a look deep down in the eyes, a sort of a shadow that is got by
passin' through the Valley of Sorrow.

I hearn afterwards what that look meant.

Isabelle had been engaged to a smart, well-meanin' chap, Tom Freeman by
name, not over and above rich, and one that had his own duties to attend
to. Two helpless aged ones, and two little nieces to took care on, and
nobody but himself to earn the money to do it with.

The little nieces' Pa had gone to California after his wife's death--and
hadn't been hearn from sence. The little children had been left with
their grandparents and Uncle Tom to stay till their Pa got back. And as
he didn't git back, of course they kept on a-stayin', and had to be took
care on. They wuz bright little creeters, and the very apples of their
eyes. But they cost money, and they cost love, and Tom had to give it,
for they lost what little property they had about this time--and the
feeble Grandma couldn't do much, and the Grandpa died not long after the
eppisode I am about to relate.

So it all devolved onto Tom. And Tom riz up to his duties nobly, though
it wuz with a sad heart, as wuz spozed, for Isabelle, when she see what
had come onto him to do, wouldn't hold him to his engagement--she
insisted on his bein' free.

I spoze she thought she wouldn't burden him with two more helpless ones,
and then mebby she thought the two spans wouldn't mate very well. And
most probable they would have been a pretty cross match. (I mean, that
is, a sort of a melancholy, down-sperited yoke, and if anybody laughs at
it, I would wish 'em to laugh in a sort of a mournful way.)

Wall, Tom Freeman, after Isabelle sot him free, bein' partly mad and
partly heart-broken, as is the way of men who are deep in love, and want
their way, but anyway wantin' to keep out of the sight of the one who,
if he could