seases. Though at first I
found them mingled with superstition, and gross rites, yet I have
discovered the beneficial properties contained in the common roots and
herbs which surround us. It was Nathaniel Hawthorne, you remember, who
said about old Roger Chillingworth that,

"'In his Indian captivity, he had gained much knowledge of the property
of native herbs and roots; nor did he conceal from his patients that
these simple medicines, Nature's boon to the untutored savage, had
quite as large a share of his own confidence as the European
Pharmacopoeia, which so many learned doctors had spent centuries in
elaborating.'"

"I don't remember the words," Constance responded, "but I have read
about that terrible man, Roger Chillingworth. It's in 'The Scarlet
Letter,' is it not?"

"Yes, and the words appealed to me so strongly that years ago, when a
student at college, I learned them by heart.

"Well, as I was saying, I have made several important additions to my
stock of knowledge while among the Indians. But there is one medicine
which is a great secret, into which I have never been admitted. Its
preparation is known only to a few. There are certain traditions
connected with it why the knowledge must not be divulged. It is formed
of roots and herbs of some kind, and is used only on the rarest
occasions. Twice I have seen the medicine administered, and each time
with marvellous results. Now, your father needs some special
treatment, for his symptoms are very similar to the man I saw cured. I
think I have influence enough to obtain the remedy for him. Will you
trust me?"

Constance gave a start, and a look of fear came into her face.

"Do you think my father is as bad as that?" she asked.

"Yes, I am afraid so, and it is important that you should leave this
place, and go back to your comfortable cabin at Klassan. Pete will
take you, and in two weeks' time I think your father will be able to
stand the journey, if great care is used. Will you consent to this?"

For a while Constance did not answer, and Keith knew she was weighing
everything most carefully, and struggling for self-control.

"Mr. Steadman," she calmly replied, holding out her hand, "I feel I can
trust you, so please do whatever you think is best."

Keith took her hand in his own strong one, and held it for an instant,
as he looked into her brave face. Neither spoke for a time, but into
each heart crept a joy, like a pure, fresh, dew-touc