dly, he walked mile after mile through this
beautiful Missouri which was so like home, among these tall, sighing
trees, under the protection of their great still umbrella-like heads,
thinking of his dream Celia, whom he was so soon to see.

The absence of the wind had left his brain clear. Since it was so
short a time until his dream was to become a reality, no longing or
heartache served to set his brain afire with the agony of despair.
Calmly he walked in the white straight rain among the tender trees,
his tired brain clear, thinking of her.

How would she receive him?

Surely, in spite of his empty-handedness, she would greet him lovingly
because of their long separation and the death of the child. Surely
she would receive him lovingly because of the endless days that had
divided them. Those days! Those days! But he refused to let his mind
dwell on the deadly length of them. It might sadden again.

In the world, he reasoned, there were those two only, Celia and
himself. Should they not cling together?

True, he would arrive empty-handed, but he could make a living for her
and himself in the old town. He was not without friends there. There
were those who had loved him in the olden time. They would give him
work. They would help him build up his lost fortunes. He would spend
his life in retrieving, in compensating to Celia for the foolish years
that he had spent dreaming dreams.

In St. Louis he remained for weeks, working about the station in the
effort to earn enough for his ride to Cincinnati. At length he
succeeded, but on an emigrant train.

He rode for a day, looking out the window at the landscape swimming by
rather than at his wild-eyed companions, crowded together like sheep.
At the end of the day he arrived at Cincinnati.

And then Seth came into--into God's country.

CHAPTER XXII.

[Illustration]

For some months after Celia's return to her native town, her friends
gathered gladly about her. A little visit! That was natural enough.
They welcomed her with open arms.

As the visit lengthened, questions ensued.

The child. What of him. Was he not very young to leave for such a
length of time? Was not that a strange mother who could thus separate
herself from a babe in arms; who could deprive him of the warmth and
comfort of her embrace?

And Seth? What of him? For Seth had many friends among them who knew
his great heart and his worth.

How was it possible for her to remain apart fr