by slapping me heavily on the shoulder, that I could not see
Mr Raydon's puckered brow. What I did see was the bear's head looking
down at me, showing its grinning teeth as if it were laughing and
pleased, and the moose staring at me with its mournful aspect less
marked. All nonsense this, I know, but there was a feeling of joy
within me that filled me with exultation.

The silence was almost painful at last, and the tension grew to such an
extent that I felt at last that I must run out and tell Esau I had
misjudged him, as I had been misjudged, when Mr Raydon stopped before
me and said softly--

"You remember your Latin, Mayne?"

"A little, sir," I said, wondering at his words.

"_Humanum est curare_. You know that?"

"Yes, sir," I said, huskily; "but please don't say any more."

"I must. I have erred bitterly. I was blind to the truth. Will you
forgive me?"

"Mr Raydon!" I cried.

"My dear boy," he said, as he grasped my hands; and, to my astonishment,
I saw the tears standing in his eyes, while I could not help thinking as
he stood there softened towards me, how like he seemed to his sister;
"you do not know how I have suffered, hard, cold man as I have grown in
my long residence in these wilds."

"But it's all past now, sir," I said; "and you know the truth."

"Yes; all past," said Gunson, warmly.

"Past; but I shall never forget it, Mayne. My dear sister's letter
interested me deeply in you, and when you came I felt that she had not
exaggerated, and you at once made your way with me. Then came this
wretched misunderstanding, blinding me to everything but the fact that I
had received a wound, one which irritated me more than I can say."

"Pray, pray say no more, sir," I cried, excitedly.

"I must, Mayne. I ought to have known better."

"I am glad, Dan," cried Mr John, exultingly. "I have always been such
a weak, easily-led-away man, that my life has been a series of mistakes;
and it is a delightful triumph to me to find that my hard-headed, stern
brother-in-law can blunder too."

"Yes; it will take some of the conceit out of me," said Mr Raydon,
smiling. "There; shake hands, my lad. I read your forgiveness in your
eyes."

"Why, my dear Raydon," cried Mr Gunson, merrily, "what moles we all
are, and how things shape themselves without our help! I find that in
my wild thirst for gold I have been acting as your good genii."

"How?" said Mr Raydon.

"By bringing Mayne and you closer t