d Franklin, feelingly as he might.

"The mother of a friend," said Mary Ellen, straightening up and
speaking with effort. And all the meaning of her words struck Franklin
fully as though a dart had sunk home in his bosom.

"We were seeking for my friend, her son," said Mary Ellen. "I--Captain
Franklin, I know of no reason why we should speak of such things at
all, but it was my--I was to have been married to the man for whom we
were seeking, and whom we found! That is what Louisburg means to me.
It means this frontier town, a new, rude life for us. It means meeting
you all here--as we are glad and proud to do, sir--but first of all it
means--that!"

Franklin bowed his head between his hands and half groaned over the
pain which he had cost. Then slowly and crushingly his own hurt came
home to him. Every fibre of his being, which had been exultingly
crying out in triumph at the finding of this missing friend--every
fibre so keenly strung--now snapped and sprang back at rag ends. In
his brain he could feel the parting one by one of the strings which but
now sang in unison. Discord, darkness, dismay, sat on all the world.

The leisurely foot of Buford sounded on the stair, and he knocked gaily
on the door jam as he entered.

"Well, niece," said he, "Mrs. Buford thinks we ought to be starting
back for home right soon now."

Mary Ellen rose and bowed to Franklin as she passed to leave the room;
but perhaps neither she nor Franklin was fully conscious of the
leave-taking. Buford saw nothing out of the way, but turned and held
out his hand. "By the way, Captain Franklin," said he, "I'm mighty
glad to meet you, sir--mighty glad. We shall want you to come down and
see us often. It isn't very far--only about twenty-five miles south.
They call our place the Halfway Ranch, and it's not a bad name, for
it's only about halfway as good a place as you and I have always been
used to; but it's ours, and you will be welcome there. We'll be up
here sometimes, and you must come down. We shall depend on seeing you
now and then."

"I trust we shall be friends," mumbled Franklin.

"Friends?" said Butord cheerily, the smiling wrinkles of his own thin
face signifying his sincerity; "why, man, here is a place where one
needs friends, and where he can have friends. There is time enough and
room enough, and--well, you'll come, won't you?" And Franklin, dazed
and missing all the light which had recently made glad the earth, w