"As soon as my strength would permit, I fled to my friends at Pembinaw. I told them all, even of my shame, which a little grave had forever hid from the world. Like true Christians they soothed my sorrows, and gave me the place in their family which their only daughter, who had married and left them during my absence, had occupied. Several years had passed away, and the good missionary died. His wife soon followed him, and I was again left alone. I had never seen brother Jim since I left him, but had frequently heard of his wicked deeds. I thought now that I would go with my life in my hand and seek him out and try once more by affectionate pursuasion, to induce him to give up his reckless life. Accordingly, I mounted my pony and set out for my former wild home. Reaching the lodge after nightfall, to my surprise I heard voices within. I did not go in, but stood listening at the entrance. I heard brother Jim and his companions propose a plan to capture you. They were to start that very night; so I hid myself among the trees and waited until they were gone. Then I went in for the night, and the next morning set out to do what I could towards rescuing you. "Now I have told you all, Miss DeWolf, and our Heavenly Father alone knows our future. As for my name in that bible, you know as much about it as I do. I never saw the book before." CHAPTER XIII. TWOFOLD AGONY--DR. GOODRICH'S PROMISE--HOME AGAIN--LILLY FOOT--THE CONVALESCENT--THE NEIGHBORHOOD WEDDING--NEWS FROM CHIMNEY ROCK--THE SHERMAN FAMILY AT THE WEST. Edward Sherman was still where we left him, listening graciously to the pretended good wishes of Hank Glutter, when Dr. Goodrich, who happened to pass that way, saw him through the window and beckoned him out side. "I expected to have met you at Dr. DeWolf's," said he, "and I brought a letter for you." Edward took the letter and read it carefully through, turning very pale as he did so. It was from his sister Louise, and contained a brief account of the dangerous illness of his mother, with a request for his immediate presence at home. His extreme paleness and the trembling hand, with which he in silence offered the open sheet for the Doctor's persual were all the outward sign of his soul's agony; agony for a beloved and dying mother; agony for the beloved, lost one, for whom, in company with a few friends, he was about to go in quest. While the Doctor was running over the communication, Edward tried to calm the surging tempest within, sufficiently to decide him how to act. "Doctor," said he, "I must go to mother, can you, I know it will be difficult, but _can_ you take my place in the company to-morrow?" "I will go, and, by the love I bear your sister, I promise to do what I can." "Let me hear from you by mail," said Edward, wringing his hand. Edward had now barely time to return to Pendleton, and hastily get his trunk in readiness for the forthcoming steamer.