"I am glad too, for now I know your magnanimous heart would have led you to serve us without reward, and even at great loss." "Yes, that it would," naively assented the farmer. "And even so we accept and shall ever be grateful for your services," added Lyon Berners, gravely. And all the while he was slily examining the contents of his pocketbook. At length he drew a five hundred dollar note from the compartment in which he knew he kept notes of that denomination, and he slipped it into a blank envelope, and held it ready in his hand. In another moment they were at the stable door, before which Sybil stood, leaning on the bowed neck of her own horse, while Robert Munson held the other horse. Before Lyon Berners could speak, Farmer Nye impetuously pushed past him, and rushed up to Sybil, pulled off his hat and put out his hand, exclaiming: "Give me your hand, lady. I beg your pardon ten thousand times over for all I said and did to affront you, not knowing who you was. But now, lady, here is a man who don't _believe_ you to be innocent, because he _knows_ that you are so, and who will fight for you as long as he has got a whole bone left in his body, and shed his blood for you as long as he has got a drop left in his veins." Overcome by this ardent testimonial to her innocence, Sybil burst into tears, and took the rough hand that had been held out to her, and wept over it, and pressed it warmly to her lips, and then to her heart. "Yes, that I will. I'll die before a hair of your head shall be hurt," exclaimed the farmer, utterly overwhelmed and blubbering. Meanwhile Lyon Berners was explaining to Robert Munson that they had found a friend and helper in Farmer Nye; but advising Munson to try to infuse enough of discretion into the impetuous mind of Nye to modify his reckless actions. "And now, dear boy," added Mr. Berners, "I will not speak to you of reward for this great service; but this I _will_ say, that henceforth you shall be to me as a younger brother, and I shall take charge of your future fortunes even as though you were the son of my mother." "You are too generous, sir; and indeed I want no recompense whatever," answered Robert Munson, sincerely. Then Mr. Berners went over to his wife and lifted her into her saddle; and when he had settled her comfortably in her seat, he mounted his own horse, and once more called Robert Munson to him. "Good-bye, and God bless you, Robert," he said, warmly shaking hands with the young man. "And you too, sir! and you too, sir!" feelingly responded Munson. And then Sybil called him. "Good-bye, dear Bob. I will remember you and love you as long as I live for this," she said. "And so will I you, ma'am," he answered, and turned away to hide his tears. Lastly Lyon Berners rode up to where Farmer Nye stood apart. "Farewell, Farmer Nye! And may you indeed fare as well as your great heart deserves all your life," said Lyon.