of his soul with God. CHAPTER XXXII. THE RIVER-SPRINGS. "Friends, fare we forth together, as the birds Cross the wide ocean in the deep of night, Unresting, till their wistful eyes at dawn See the soft margin of the long'd-for land." --JOHN JERVIS BERESFORD. It was a fair afternoon, three days after the encounter of the two friends in the lonely mountain church, when the lovers met in the rocky fastness hard by the far-famed Robbers' Cavern, and once more sat together, as in happier days they had been wont to sit for hours, forgetful of the flight of time, while they watched with entranced eyes the outflow of the twin streamlets from their secret hiding-places, and saw them, joining hand in hand, dance merrily down the steep hillside, in musical union and ever-gathering force, till in the sunny vale below their mutual waters spread themselves softly over the wide expanse of the broad river-bed and flowed onward with majestic roll and shining countenance till lost to view in the wooded meads. Never had they been weary of that fair picture of their wedded lives; and now, though mists of tears blinded their sight, and hope and gladness were dead, yet the picture still seemed fair, and long they gazed in silence, unbroken save by the bubbling of the hurrying streamlets, rushing with eager feet to their glad union. Not yet was Percival's victory wholly won, and while he strove to sustain the fainting heart of Primrose, whose courage failed her at the traces of bitter struggle seen in his countenance, his own inward warfare raged sorely within his breast; and as Master Taylor, who had been wandering at a distance while they conversed together, once more drew near to warn them of the long journey before them, and laid a loving hand upon his friend's shoulder, the young chaplain exclaimed despairingly; "This, the fairest of God's good gifts, He gave into my hand, Jeremy, and now can I give it back to Him ungrudgingly at this His sudden call? Do I not well to be angry?" and he hid his face in his hands. "Perchance the words of a greater saint than you or I dare ever hope to be may give you a truer answer than I am fit to give," answered Master Taylor sadly. "God has no right to take back His gift, think you! Yet hear again the words of His holy saint: 'When I give it, it is still mine; when I withdraw it, I take not anything that is thine; for every good and every perfect gift is mine.' Is not this true, friend Percival?" The young man lifted his head and grasped his friend's hand convulsively. "My mind verily knows it to be true, dear friend," he answered wistfully. "Pray for me that my heart, which is weak and bleeding sorely, may confess it likewise!"