o?" Suddenly she bowed her face in her hands. "Oh, I'm so
wicked and selfish to think of leaving him there without you or me or
mother--one. David, what can we do? He might die there, and you--you
must come back for the winter; what would save him, might kill you. Oh,
David! Take me with you, and leave me there with him, and you come back.
Doctor Hoyle will take care of him--of us--once we are there."

"Now, now, now! hold your dear heart in peace. Why, I'm well. To stay
another winter would only be to establish myself in a more rugged
condition of body--not that I must do so. We'll talk with your mother
to-morrow. It may be hard to persuade her."

But he found the mother most reasonable and practical. He even tried to
abate her perfect trust in him and his ability to bring the child back
to her quite well and strong.

"This isn't a trouble that is ever really cured, you know. When taken
young enough, it may be helped, and I've known people who have lived
long and useful lives in spite of it. That's all we may hope for."

"Waal, I 'low ye can't git him no younger'n he be now, an' he's that
peart, I reckon he's worth hit--leastways to we-uns."

"Of course he's worth it."

"You are right good to keer fer him like you have. I'd do a heap fer you
ef I could. All I have is jest this here farm, an' hit's fer you an'
Cass. On'y ef ye'd 'low me an' leetle Hoyle to bide on here whilst we
live--"

David was touched. "Do you realize I've found here the two greatest
things in the world, love and health? All I want is for you to know and
remember that if I can't succeed in doing all I would like for the boy,
at least I tried my very best. I may not succeed, you know, but this is
the only thing to do now--the only thing."

David parted from his young wife, leaving her standing in the door of
their cabin, clad in her white homespun frock, smiling, yet tearful and
pale. He was to walk down to the Fall Place, where Jerry Carew waited
with the wagon in which he had arrived, and where his baggage had been
brought the day before. When he came to the steepest part of the
descent, he looked back and saw Cassandra still standing as if in a
trance, gazing after him. He felt his heart lean towards her, and,
turning sharply, walked swiftly to her and took her once more in his
arms and looked down into those deep springs--her sweet gray eyes. Thus
for a long moment he held her to his heart with never a word. Then she
entered the little