he Mexican to
drive him to Ysleta. At the Rio Vista, having gone to his room, he
called a servant and sent him with a message to Helen. She was not to be
found. At the office he learned that Helen had gone out to the works and
would be absent for several days. He would have followed, but he dared
not. Her last words, the last look that he remembered so clearly, these
told him only too plainly that she would not be forced, that--he dared
think no further. He must work on her sympathy through an appeal. He
returned to his room at the hotel and found what he had overlooked
before, a package of papers on his table. They had been sent over from
the office. A slip of paper in Helen's writing, "Elijah Berl, Rio
Vista." He tore the string from the bundle in feverish haste. His
fingers trembled as he shuffled the letters one by one. Not one was in
Helen's hand. Again and again he went over them, then he gave up in
despair.

With infinite patience, the Almighty has taught us by precept and
example, that our destinies are in our own hands; that the punishment
for failure that comes to us, is self-inflicted, and not from him, when
in blind despair, we thrust aside a redemption that is waiting to make
us whole. The smitten rock that quenched the thirst of Israel, the
parted sea that gave them a way to safety, the column of smoke that
reached into the day, the pillar of fire that made the darkness light,
these may be fables; but they speak with a voice that cannot be stilled,
telling us that in ages past, as in the present, an eye that sleeps not,
watches over us; that hope is for us if we will.

Among the discarded letters, was one from Winston. It told of the
plucked fangs of Mellin, of Uncle Sid's restoration of the stolen money,
of the meeting with Seymour. It ended, "Come back, old man, we want
you."

Late as was the hour when Elijah at last turned from his unopened
letters, he rang for a servant and ordered a carriage to take him to his
ranch. He could not go to the dam; the thought of idly waiting at the
hotel was unendurable. He wanted to see some one, he must see some one.
He had deliberately put Amy from him; but she did not know this. The
black heartlessness of his proposed action did not once occur to him.
Before leaving the hotel he wrote an appeal to Helen. He told her where
he was going and that he would wait her answer.

At the ranch, he found Amy as of old. Eager, questioning hope leaped to
her eyes as they rest