e you know us too well to believe that
we think of doing what is wrong, and you can trust us--at least my
mother--that we will not do what is foolish."

"I have perfect confidence in your hearts, my dear friends," replied Mr.
Mason; "but you will forgive me if I express some doubt as to your
ability to judge between right and wrong when your feelings are deeply
moved, as they evidently are, from some cause or other, just now. Can
you not put confidence in me? I can keep a secret, and may, perhaps,
give you good counsel."

"No, no," said Henry, emphatically; "it will not do to involve you in
our affairs. It would not be right in us _just now_ to confide even in
you. I cannot explain why--you must accept the simple assurance in the
meantime. Wherever we go, we can communicate by letter, and I promise,
ere long, to reveal all."

"Well, I will not press you further; but I will commend you in prayer to
God. I do not like to part thus hurriedly, however. Can we not meet
again before you go?"

"We shall be in the cottage at four this afternoon, and will be very
glad if you will come to us for a short time," said the widow.

"That is settled, then; I will go and explain to the natives that I
cannot accompany them to the village till to-morrow. When do you leave?"

"To-night."

"So soon! Surely it is not--But I forbear to say more on a subject which
is forbidden. God bless you, my friends; we shall meet at four.
Good-by!"

The missionary turned from them with a sad countenance, and went in
search of the native chiefs; while Henry and his mother separated from
each other, the former taking the path that led to the little quay of
Sandy Cove, the latter that which conducted to her own cottage.

CHAPTER XXX.

MORE LEAVING--DEEP DESIGNS--BUMPUS IN A NEW CAPACITY.

On the particular day of which we are writing, Alice Mason felt an
unusual depression of spirits. She had been told by her father of the
intended departure of the widow and her son, and had been warned not to
mention it to any one. In consequence of this, the poor child was
debarred her usual consolation of pouring her grief into the black bosom
of Poopy. It naturally followed, therefore, that she sought her next
favorite,--the tree.

Here, to her surprise and comfort, she found Corrie, seated on one of
its roots, with his head resting on the stem, and his hands clasped
before him. His general appearance was that of a human being in the
depths of woe