It was apparent, upon examination, that the fire was the work of an incendiary; Philip felt, in his heart, what the guilty intention was, and shuddered at his narrow escape. It was decided by him and Mr. Wilde to put the authorities upon the proper track; but the perpetrator had fled, and no clue could be got to him in the city. Mr. Wilde at once suspected he had gone up the river, and feeling that they should have no peace until he was apprehended, and not knowing what mischief he might do at the mill, he took the sheriff with him and started for home, leaving Alice, for the present, at the school, with permission of the principal to see her friends when she chose, as it was now vacation. Before he left there was a long consultation between the three--Philip, Alice, and her father. Philip explained his absence. As he went on to speak of Mortimer Moore and his daughter, of his death, the troubled state of the family affairs, etc., the raftsman betrayed a keener interest than his connection with those affairs would seem to warrant. "Poor Virginia! she is all alone, and she is your cousin, Philip," said Alice. "She tried hard to get back her old power over me, Alice. You must beware how you compassionate her too much. But when we are married, and have a home of our own, we will share it with her, if you consent. I've no doubt she can find somebody worthy of her, even in this savage West, as she thinks it. And, by the way, I think we ought to get a home of our own as soon as possible, in order to have a shelter to offer my cousin--don't you, Alice?" "She's tongue-tied. Girls always lose their tongues when they need 'em the most." "Now, father, I should think you might answer for me," said Alice, trying to raise her eyes, but blushes and confusion would get the better of her, and she took refuge in her father's lap. "Well, puss, I s'pose you want to go to school five or six years yet--tell him you've made your cacklations to keep in school till you're twenty-two." "School! I'll be your teacher," said Philip. "Choose for yourself, puss. I s'pose the sooner you shake off yer old father, the better you'll like it." "I shan't shake you off, father. Neither shall I leave you alone up there in the woods. That matter must be settled at the start. I shall never marry, father, to desert you, or be an ungrateful child." "Suppose we arrange it this way then. We will live with your father in the summer, and he shall live with us in the winter. I don't want a prettier place than Wilde's mill to spend my summers in." "Oh, that will be delightful," exclaimed the young girl; and then she blushed more deeply than ever at having betrayed her pleasure. "Then don't keep me in suspense any longer, but tell me if you will get ready to go back to New York with me in the latter part of September. We will be gone but a few weeks, and can be settled in the new mansion I've given orders for, before the winter is here. Shall it be so?"