ches of blue sky. On every side stretched long
aisles pillared with the clean red trunks of the pine trees wrought in
network pattern. At their feet raged the Goat, foaming out his futile
fury at the unmoved black rocks. Up the rocky sides from the water's
edge, bravely clinging to nook and cranny, running along ledges, hanging
trembling to ragged edges, boldly climbing up to the forest, were all
spring's myriad tender things wherewith she redeems Nature from winter's
ugliness. From the river below came gusts of misty wind, waves of
sound of the water's many voices. It was a spot where Nature's kindly
ministries got about the spirit, healing, soothing, resting.

With hardly a word, Dick lay for an hour, watching the pine branches
wave about him and listening to the voices that came from the woods
around and from the waters below, till the fever and the doubt passed
from his heart and he grew strong and ready for the road again.

"You don't know how good this is, Margaret," he said, "all this about
me. No, it's you. It's you, Margaret. If I could see you oftener I could
bear it better. You shame me and you make me a man again. Oh, Margaret!
if only you could let me hope that some day--"

"Look, Dick!" she cried, springing to her feet, "there's the train."

It was still a novelty to see the long line of cars wind its way like
some great jointed reptile through the woods below.

"Tell me, Margaret," continued Dick, "is it quite impossible?"

"Oh, Dick!" cried the girl, her face full of pain, "don't ask me!"

"Can it never be, Margaret, in the years to come?"

She clasped her hands above her heart. "Dick," she cried piteously, "I
can't see how it can be. My heart is not my own. While Barney lives I
could not be true and be another's wife."

"While Barney lives!" echoed Dick blankly. "Then God grant you may
never be mine!" He stood straight for a moment, then with a shake of his
shoulders, as if adjusting a load, he stepped into the path. "Come, let
us go," he said. "There will be letters and I must get to work."

"Yes, Dick dear," said Margaret, her voice full of tender pity, "there's
always our work, thank God!"

Together they entered the shady path, going back to the work which was
to them, as to many others, God's salvation.

There were a number of letters lying on the office desk that day, but
one among them made Margaret's heart beat quick. It was from Iola. She
caught it up and tore it open. It might hold