ngs of a dove
that I may go and see them again!"

His head fell on the table and his whole frame shook with emotion, while
Blanche, with her own sad beautiful eyes swimming in tears, could not
utter a word of consolation. When he had partially recovered she asked:

"Why did you not tell me this before, you might have had my sympathy all
along."

"I did not care to burden you with my griefs."

"Trust in God."

"I do; but this dark uncertainty; my helpless children."

"They have their mother."

"She is unpractical, knows nothing of life and is as helpless as the
children. The little money left her has been spent long before this, and
they are--Heaven only knows what ills they may endure. So long as I was
with them, I shielded them from the rude blasts of the world; but now
they are without a protector."

[Illustration: BLANCHE COULD NOT UTTER A WORD OF CONSOLATION.]

Overcome with the sad picture he had created in his mind, he buried his
face again in his hands. Once more Blanche sought to soothe his cares by
assuring him that He who watched the sparrow's fall would in some way
care for his loved ones at home.

The years rolled on, and day by day he climbed the top of the nearest
hill and gazed off to the sea, hoping to discern a sail, but in vain.

He had brought the captain's glasses from the ship, and with this often
gazed at the two islands toward the north with longing eyes. Did they
connect with the main land where people dwelt, and from which they might
find means of transportation to the home which he sometimes feared he
might never again behold?

"Would it be too dangerous to undertake a voyage to those islands?"
Blanche asked one day when they were gazing for the thousandth time
at them.

"If we had a suitable boat we might attempt it."

"How is our own boat?"

"Too frail. The boards are almost rotten."

"Then why not make one?"

The idea was a good one, for it promised him employment. He felled a
large tree and proceeded to make a dug-out such as the Indians of
Virginia used.

Blanche helped him and was so cheerful, kind and considerate, that
often, as he gazed on her beautiful face, he sighed:

"Had Dorothy possessed her spirit, this misery would have been averted."
He felt a twinge of conscience at rebuking his wife, even in thought. No
doubt she had paid dearly for her folly.

The boat at last was completed, and he rigged a sail for it, and
together they set out for the distant isl