rine shivered, knowing for a certainty
that her father's trouble was proving too big for him alone.

"Yes, I remember," she replied very softly,

"That was a black day for me, for it brought dead things to life in
a way that I had thought impossible. I used to know that Oswald
Selincourt who has bought the fishing fleet."

"That one? Are you sure it is the same?" she asked in surprise.
"The name is uncommon, still it is within the bounds of probability
that there might be two, and you said the one you knew was a poor
man."

"I fancy there is no manner of doubt that it is the same," 'Duke
Radford said slowly. "The day we went to Fort Garry, M'Crawney
told me he had a letter from Mr. Selincourt too, in which the new
owner said he was a Bristol man, and that he had known what it was
to be poor, so did not mean to risk money on ventures he had no
chance of controlling, and that was why he was coming here next
summer to boss the fleet."

"Poor Father!" Katherine murmured softly. "Ah, you may well say
poor!" he answered bitterly. "If it were not for you, the boys,
poor Nellie, and her babies, I'd just be thankful to know that I'd
never get up from this bed again, for I don't feel that I have
courage to face life now."

"Father, you must not talk nor think like that, indeed you must
not!" she exclaimed, in an imploring tone. "Think how we need you
and how we love you. Think, too, how desolate we should be without
you."

"That is what I tell myself every hour in the twenty-four, and I
shall make as brave a fight for it as I can for your sakes," he
said in a regretful tone, as if his family cares were holding him
to life against his will. Then he went on: "Oswald Selincourt and
I were in the same business house in Bristol years ago, and I did
him a great wrong."

Katherine had a sensation that was almost akin to what she would
have felt if someone had dashed a bucket of ice-cold water in her
face. But she did not move nor cry out, did not even gasp, only
sat still with the dumb horror of it all filling her heart, until
she felt as if she would never feel happy again. Her father had
always seemed to her the noblest of men, and she had revered him
so, because he always stood for what was right and true. Then some
instinct told her that he must be suffering horribly too, and
because she could not speak she slid her warm fingers into his
trembling hand and held it fast.

"Thank you, dear, I felt I could trus