ll, dear, my life is an erratic and wandering one. No one,
not even I, can say where I may be."

"But you have not lived a wandering life lately; you have lived here
for many years."

"Because the lodestone, the magnet of my heart was here," he answered
half-playfully, half-tenderly. "When that is gone, I shall be likely
to fly off in a tangent again."

"Oh, Jack, you must not talk so. I want to see you in the years to
come. I must and I will. I feel it," she added brightly.

For answer, Jack, for the first time, placed his arms about her, and
for a moment folded her closely to his breast. Then, bending his head,
he kissed her reverently, first on the forehead, then on the lips,
saying, "God bless you always, my dear child!"

She returned the kiss, and as he released her, she whispered:

"Good-night, dear Jack!"

"Good-night, my dear," he answered, adding under his breath, "and
good-bye!"

After she had gone, he sat in the gathering darkness alone, lost in
thought. The collie, returning from attending Lyle on her homeward
walk, divined, with keen, unerring instinct, the sorrow in his
master's heart, and coming close, laid his head upon his knee, in
mute sympathy and affection. His master stroked the noble head, but
his thoughts were far away, and he was only aroused at length by the
sound of voices, as Everard Houston and Morton Rutherford entered the
cabin. The moon had now risen, and the little room in which he sat was
filled with a soft, silver radiance.

Jack rose to meet his guests, and his quick ear detected the vibration
of a new emotion in Houston's voice, and as they exchanged greetings,
there was something in the clasp of their hands that night that
thrilled the heart of each one as never before.

At heart, Jack was glad of the presence of Morton Rutherford. He
feared that alone with Houston, after the events of that day, and in
the light of the anticipated events of the morrow, his own emotions
might prove too strong, weakening the perfect self-control which he
felt he must now exercise. The presence of Rutherford acted as a
tonic, and restored the desired equilibrium.

"Mr. Houston already knows my aversion to a lamp, and if you do not
object, Mr. Rutherford, we will sit for a while in the moonlight."

"By all means," said Rutherford. "I myself dislike the glare of a
bright light for genuine, friendly intercourse. A soft, subdued light
is much more conducive to mutual confidence and interchang