“I will meet you in the wilds of Oregon. Daphne’s latest erratic movements to escape me have all along been known. To follow you I became a wanderer in these Western wilds. I will take measures to set your beautiful daughter free. A couple whom God hath _not_ joined together it is man’s duty to put asunder. Keep your own counsel till such time as you are strong enough to take your life and destiny into your own hands, and declare yourself accountable primarily to yourself and God for your own actions. “I will be in Portland, Oregon, by November first. We shall surely meet again. “Faithfully, through time and for eternity, your devoted but never yet accredited counterpart, “DONALD MCPHERSON.” The daughter clasped her mother’s hand and fervently exclaimed, “Thank God!” Mrs. Benson wept. “It will never do for you and me to meet again after this revelation,” said the daughter, after a long silence. “I will take up my permanent abode in this new country, and you can rejoin Donald in New York or Philadelphia, _via_ the city of Panama. But you must go to Portland now. We will not set idle tongues to wagging here. It is fortunate indeed that Donald took his mother’s name as a part of his last inheritance.” XXXIII _LOVE FINDS A WAY_ “You needn’t select any lands for me, Captain,” said Mrs. Benson. “I have decided to go to Portland to-morrow with the team that’s going down for supplies. I shall not return. But my daughter will remain and take a claim. She has decided to turn rancher, but I do not like the life.” “Isn’t this a rather sudden change in your programme, Mrs. Benson?” “Not at all. I didn’t intend to remain when I came here. I wouldn’t have come any farther than Oregon City, but I wanted to get a view of the future home of Daphne; and now, as she has chosen for herself and has a fair prospect of happiness ahead, I am ready to look out for myself. I shall stop awhile in Portland, and be ready to take the next steamer for San Francisco. I will go to New York by way of the Isthmus, and will spend the evening of my days in Paris or London.” “I’m sure I wish you well, Mrs. Benson.” “Thank you, Captain. My heart is too full for words! I know you will always be a friend to my dear daughter.” “You surely do not mean to go where you can never see your daughter again!” “Yes, Captain. Do you recall that tall and bronzed and handsome man of whom you bought the buffalo robe you gave to your wife a short time before her death?” “You mean Donald McPherson?” “Yes, sir. The fates have settled it. He is to be my husband, and Daphne and I must part.” “You have my best wishes for success and happiness,” said the Captain, earnestly, as he offered his hand.