Surely some one must have scratched them over, or they could not have been so distinct. The silence was getting painful, and rested upon her heart like a burden.

"Do you remember those lines, Keturah ?" Giles began at length, somewhat timidly, for it had always been a tender subject, and although it were easy enough to surmise upon her altered feelings, it was not well to proceed without explicit fact and word.

She was silent, and hung down her head.

"He says he'll come again, sister; do you doubt him ?"

Again she was silent.

“Was it not here you said 'it cannot be,' and he grasped your hand and left you ? Do you say so now ?"

Oh, no brother, no!" she burst out, half in tears, and scarcely daring to lift her gaze from the ground, "You know I love him, only that I fear he loves me not, and I wait his coming, and still he comes not, until I sometimes think he cares for me no longer, and I grieve at my past foolishness."

"Nay, he will come again, sister."

Oh, how her heart leaped at the words, and the gladness of her earlier youth, richer and mellower, came back in a tremulous tide. She had not seen Giles beckon, but she looked up hopefully.

There was a rustle in the trees before her, a strong man came forward, quietly and dubiously, with eyes fixed upon Keturah, and a warm ɛmile melting his stern, bronzed features, until the lines that weary years had left were gone, and the face of an earlier man gleamed out loving and true.

It was enough. Love had conquered doubt, and the old life was re-born in the new love. Keturah recognised him as he approached and held out his hand, and ran forward and fell upon his breast, crying

"Stephen, forgive me! forgive me!"

252

CHAPTER XVIII.

A DOUBLE WEDDING.

HAPPY were the days that followed the meetting of Stephen and Keturah, and joyously the opening summer symbolized the newness and richness of their existence. There was asking of questions and answerings, gentle touchings upon sacred memories and solitary hours, swift glances backward and forward and heavenward, and silent hoverings upon the deep griefs that only served to knit them closer even when they bowed them most. Many pensive pilgrimages had they to wellremembered scenes, many moments of melodious feeling, many whisperings of grateful prayer. And the days grew long and sunny, the landscape rich and blooming, and the ether bright and balmy.

Life in the old home was full of pleasant idyls. Stephen would coax Giles into telling him about his trials and imprisonment, and then Giles would get Stephen, in his turn, to give them pictures of the New World, of its forests and rivers, lakes and prairies, mountains and Red Men, and the quaint Dutch settlers amongst whom he had found a settlement and a home. And he would twit Stephen with his runaway adventure, and Stephen would always smile when the letter was referred to which set Giles upon the right track in seeking out the Hazzlehursts, and when at last Keturah produced the identical note, with its now faded ink and somewhat obliterated characters, which she had preserved as a treasure unknown to any one, Stephen said

66

Oh, yes, I know a good deal about that letter, don't I Giles? But you didn't suspect me, did you?"

66

Hardly," replied Giles, "but some one else did, you know-women are so much deeper in these matters than we are―eh, Keturah ?"

Stephen was a great favourite with the

A A

little ones.

He had marvellous tales to tell them whenever they took him by the hand, and lead him to a corner, saying—

"Now, uncle, tell us about the big world. across the water."

One day, indeed, Nathaniel was very taciturn for some time after a feast of such charming dainties, and looked very meditative.

"What is the matter, my boy ?" asked Giles, "you don't seem so spirity as usual. Is Ponto sulky? or have you and he had a quarrel ?"

"Oh, no, father," the lad answered, "I've been wondering about the funny words and picture-writing uncle talks about, and how the Red Men can manage to read their Bibles, only he says they haven't any, but if I was a man, father, I'd go and teach them how to read about God and Jesus Christ, for uncle says they aree-what is it ?"

"Idolaters, my boy."

Yes, they've wooden gods, that's what I mean, and a good many of them. And will you let me go, father, and try and teach these poor men better ?"