kful that the sun rises each
morning, and that you can rise up from your bed refreshed and ready
for the full play of heart, and mind, and limbs. Disasters will go on
about you as they go on about me, and about us all. But they do not
belong to us. That is just life. That is just the world and its
scheme. There are lessons in all these things for us to learn--lessons
for the purification of our hearts, and not diseases for our silly,
weak brains. Now, little girl, I want you to promise that you will
endeavor to do as I say. Live a wholesome, healthy life. Enjoy all
that it is given you to enjoy. Where good can be done, do it. Where
evil lies, shun it. Forget all this that lies behind you, and--Live!
Evil is merely the absence of Good. Life is all Good. If we deny that
good, then there is Evil. Live your life with all its blessings, and
your God will bless _you_. This is your duty to yourself; to your
fellows; to life; to your God."

Joan had risen from her seat. Her face was alight with a hope that had
not been there for many days. The man's words had taken hold of her.
Her troubled mind could not withstand them. He had inspired her with a
feeling of security she had not known for weeks. Her tears were no
longer tears of despair. They were tears of thankfulness and hope. But
when she spoke her words seemed utterly bald and meaningless to
express the wave of gratitude that flooded her heart.

"I will; I will," she cried with glistening eyes. "Oh, Padre!" she
went on, with happy impulse, "you don't know what you've done for
me--you don't know----"

"Then, child, do something for me." The man was smiling gravely down
into the bright, upturned face. "You must not live alone down there at
the farm. It is not good in a child so young as you. Get some
relative to come and share your home with you."

"But I have no one--except my Aunt Mercy."

"Ah!"

"You see she is my only relative. But--but I think she would come if I
asked her."

"Then ask her."

* * * * *

The Padre was sitting in the chair that Joan had occupied. He too was
bending over the stove with his hands outstretched to the warming
blaze. Perhaps he too was feeling the nip of the mountain air. Feeling
it more than usual to-night. Buck was sitting on the edge of the table
close by. He had just returned from taking Joan back to the farm.

The young man's journey home had been made in a condition of mental
exhilaration which