“Oh, no, honey; I has had a lubly quiet time here by myself! And I had such a hebbenly dream! I dreamed how de Lord had tuk Sereny—or de debbil had got her, I didn’t know which; ennyhow she had ’parted dis life, and I was libbin’ alone at de gate-house and smokin’ my pipe in peace ’dout de fear o’ being scalped or performed on enny more, and how you and Marse Lieutenant Ronald Bruce, Esquire, was de lord and lady ob de manor libbin’ up at de hall, and you was a-gwine out for a drive in a cherryrout and four, and you called me to open de gate, and I jumped to do it and woke up and found it was all a dream! How dese dere ’cevin’ dreams do cheat us, Miss Em.,” said the old man as he busied himself untying the boat. “They do so, Uncle ’Sias! But don’t let this dream cheat us into being out after dark. Make haste, please,” said Em. as she stepped into the boat and seated herself and took the tiller. The old man laid himself heartily to the oars, and the little boat shot from the shore and soon left the island far behind it. The sun had sunk behind the mountains that formed the west bank of the river, and cast their deep shadow far across the water; but Em., for the first time, took little notice of the changes in the face of nature—she was absorbed in thoughts of the strange discovery she had made that day—the White Spirit, the Wonder of the Wilderness, the Lady of Edengarden, no other than Emolyn Wyndeworth, who had disappeared from the world so long ago, that she was supposed to have been many years in Heaven. How amazed, how incredulous, and at length how delighted her mother would be to hear the news! But the strangest truth in the girl’s experience now was the sudden and perfect love and trust she already reposed in Emolyn Wyndeworth, the Lady of Edengarden! She felt that near that lady was _rest_—rest for her own troubled heart; that on her bosom, as on some angel mother’s, she could lay her weary head and tell all the secret thoughts and affections, faults and temptations that troubled her. She even resolved as she sat silently meditating in her seat, while she mechanically steered the boat, that some day she would tell this lady all about her ill-starred love affair with Ronald Bruce, for surely the sympathetic Emolyn Wyndeworth would be a disinterested umpire between the old and young. And who knew? she was so wonderfully powerful she might even find a way to make them—the poor young lovers—happy. “Here, Miss Em.! Whar yer gwine? Here we is op’sit’ de landin’, honey! Turn in!” were the words of old ’Sias that woke Em. from her deep reverie. She steered for the landing and in a few minutes reached it. Old ’Sias drew in his oars and secured the boat. Em. jumped out and stood waiting until the old man joined her. Then they walked through the woods together. It was growing dark and there was no moon. When they reached the park wall and the gate-house Em. took a silver half dollar from her pocket and said: