The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1909-02-18
(C0ntinued.l

''Yes, I know. sir" he answered, looking at Rachel ''I was just in time to save your daughters life here, as you said just now, Providence sent
 me. Well, goodbye, and don't think
 me wicked if I am very glad that
 was disobedient, as I believe you are, too"
 "Yes, am. Good comes out of
 evil, sometimes, though that is no req
 son why we should do evil," the mis-
 sionary added, not knowing what else
 to say.
 Richard did not attempt to argue
 the point, for at the moment he was
 engaged in bidding farewell to Rach-
 el. It was a very silent farewell: {:
 neither of them spoke a word, they
 only shook each others hand and
 looked into each others eyes. Then
 muttering something which it was as
 we'll that MI. Dove did not hear, Rich
 ard swung himself into the saddle for
 his horse stood at hand, and, without
 even looking back cantered away to-
 wards the mountains.
 "Oh!" exclaimed Rachel presently
 "call him, father.''
 What for ?' asked MT. Dove.
 1T want to give him our address, and
 to get his. ~ . he is too far off, and why should you
 want the address of chance ac- quaintance?"
 Because he saved my life and l do,' replied the child, setting her face. Then, without another word, she turned and began to walk towards their camp-a very heavy journey 1t was to Rachel.
 When Rachel reached the wagon she found that her mother was more or less recovered. At any rate the at tack of fever had left her so that she l felt able to rise from her bed Now, although still weak she was engaged l in packing away the garments of her dead baby in a travelling chest, weep | ing in a silent, piteous manner as she worked. It was very sad sight. When she saw Rachel she opened her | arms without a word, and embraced | her
 "You were not frightened about
 me, mother?' asked the child. NO, my love-" she answered, "be- ] cause I knew that no harm would that. It was mad thing of your fa- ther to send you to such place at such a time, but no folly of his or of anyone else can hurt you who are des- tined to lice. Never be afraid of any,
 thing, Rachel, for remember always you will only die in old age.'' "I am not sure that I am glad of
 that answered the girl, as she pull ed off her wet clothes. "Life isn't a very happy thing, is it mother, at least for those who live as we do?" There is good and bad in it, dear; we can't have one without the other l most of us. At any rate we must take 1t as it comes. who have to walk a path that we did not make. and stop walking when our path comes to an end. not a step before or after. But, Rachel. you are changed since yester- day. I see it in your face. What has happened to your"
 Lots of things. mother. will tell you the story. all of it. every word. Would you like to hear it?''
 Her mother nodded. and. the baby clothes being at last packed away. shut the lid of the box with a sigh, sat down upon it and listened.
 Rachel told her of her meeting with Richard Darrien. and of how he saved her from the flood. She told of the strange night that they had spent to- marched up and down without. She told of her vigil over the sleeping Richard at the daybreak. and of the dream that she had dreamed when she seemed to see him grown to manhood, aud herself grown to womanhood. and clad in white skins. watching him lash ed to the trunk of a gigantic trees as the first arrows of sunrise struck down the lanes of some mysterious forest. She told of how her heart had been stirred. and of how afterwards in the mist by the waters brink his heart had been stirrd also. and of how they had kissed each other and wept be- cause they must part.
 l Then she stopped, expecting that 1 her mother would be angry with her and scold her for her thoughts and
 conduct, as she knew we'll her father
 would have done. But she was not
 angry, and she did not sco1d She
 stroked the child's fair hair, saying: 1 Don't be frightened, Rachel, and don't be sad. You think that you have lost him, but soon or late he will
 come back to you, perhaps as you dream otherwise" 'If I were sure of that, mother, l
 would not mind anything" said the girl, though really don't know why should care," she added defantly. l "No, you don't know now but you will one day, and when you do, re-
 member that however long it seems
 to wait, you may be quite sure, be-
 cause I who have the gift of know
 ing, told you so. Now tell me aga1n what Richard Darrien was like while
 you remember, for perhaps I may never live to see his face, and l wish
 to get it into my mind.' | So Rachel told her, and when she had described every detail, asked sud denly:
 "Must we really go on, mother, in l to this awful wilderness? Would not l father turn back if you asked him 7,
 Perhaps" she answered "But ] shall not ask. He would never for ] give me for preventing him from do- 1 ing what he thinks his duty. It is
 madness when we might be happy in the Cape, or in England, but that can- not be helped, for it is also his des- tiny and ours. Don't judge hardly o1
 your father, Rachel, because he is
 saint, and this world is bad place for saints and their families, especial ly their families. You think that he l does not feel; that he is heartless l about me, and the poor babe, and sac rifices us all, but I tell you he feels more than either you or I can do. Al night when I pretend to go to sleep I watch him grooming over his loss and for me, and praying for strength
 to bear it ,and for help to enable him | to do his duty. Last night he was nearly craZed about you, and in all that awful storm when the KaH1rs l would not stir from the wagon, went alone down to the river guided by the lightnings, but of course returned hal1 dead, having found nothing. By dawn he was back there again, for love and fear would not let him rest minute | Coll hT