ough David's arm.

"I don't know," he answered absently.

"Are you dead broke, Davy?"

"Dead broke," in a lifeless echo.

"Will you accept a little loan? You can't go far without money."

"It's no use."

"Take it! I wouldn't have had it if it hadn't been for you, and I won't
have it long whether you take it or not."

As he spoke he slipped a roll of bills into his friend's pocket.

"Thanks!" said David.

"Don't mention it," he replied.

"Good-bye."

"Good-bye."

The sun was just rising as they parted. The first faint stir of life was
perceptible in the city streets; the green-grocers were coming in with
their fresh vegetables; the office boys were opening the doors and
putting away the shutters; there was a bright, morning look on the faces
which peered into the haggard countenance of the gambler as he crept
aimlessly along, but the fresh, sweet light gave him neither brightness
nor joy. His heart was cold and dead; he had not even formed a purpose.

And so he drifted aimlessly until the current that was setting toward
the levee caught him and bore him on with it. The sight of a vessel just
putting out to sea communicated to his spirit its first definite impulse
and he ascended the gang-plank without even inquiring its destination.

In a few moments the boat swung loose and turned its prow down the
river. The bustle of the embarkation distracted him. He watched the
hurrying sailors, gazed at the piles of merchandise, walked up and down
the deck, listened to the fresh breeze that began to play upon the
great, sonorous harp of the shrouds and the masts, and when at last the
vessel glided out into the waters of the gulf he lay down in a hammock
and fell into a long and dreamless sleep.

CHAPTER XXII.

HEART HUNGER

"Only; I discern
Infinite passion, and the pain
Of finite hearts that yearn."

--Browning.

For a moment after she had read the note which David thrust beneath her
door, Pepeeta held her breath; then sinking to her knees, she prostrated
herself before that august Being to whom all men bow in last
extremities; her head resting upon arms pathetically crossed on the low
window sill--bruised but not broken, cast down, but not destroyed--she
drank the cup of sorrow to its dregs.

Men hang birds in dark rooms, sometimes, until they learn to sing, and
it was to a kindred discipline of her Heavenly Father's that Pepeeta was
being subjected. In that supr