"Nequa, I am glad to find you in tears. They will give you relief as nothing else can. I knew you needed a friend, and I have come to constitute myself that friend. Now listen to me. I knew from the first that you were a woman and that Captain Ganoe did not suspect anything of the kind. I further discerned that there was a hidden chord which drew you to him and yet for some reason you dare not reveal yourself to him. This secret is wearing your life away. You must tell me all about it and I can, and I will, help you to bear it. When we look at things philosophically and see them on all sides, just as they are, there is no wound of body, mind or spirit that may not be healed. There is no wrong that is not too limited in its scope to effect any permanent injury. Our bounteous mother, nature, has provided a healing balm for every wound if we will but search for it with the right spirit." I could not be mistaken as to the spirit and purposes of this noble woman, nor resist her entreaties. She had penetrated my disguise and read my secret and I had every reason to respect her judgment. For years I had carried my burdens alone. Under the weight of the wrongs imposed upon me I had sought relief from the burden of grief in the exercise of an indomitable will, in a vain effort to force my heart to become, if need be, as cold as ice, and as hard as adamant. But it could not be. I was forced to realize that "There can be no philosophy Which steels the heart 'gainst ev'ry bitter woe; 'Tis not in nature, and it cannot be; We cannot rend the heart, and not a throe Of agony, tell how it feels a blow." And now this agony, which I had carried so long, concealed under the smiling countenance of an assumed character, had forced a recognition. This was nature's demand for human sympathy and the kind and loving heart of Oqua was here to respond. Much as I had desired to keep my sorrow deep buried in my own bosom. I could not repel this noble woman whose keen intuition had already divined my secret. I felt the need of just such sympathy as hers, and why should I spurn it from me? My soul went out to her and I felt impelled by some irresistible impulse to clasp her to my bosom and tell her all. My heart was breaking with the silent misery that it had carried for years, unshared by a single human being, and which I resolved should be carried unobserved to the grave. Again I resolved anew that I would not even share it with this noble, sympathizing woman, but nature's floodgates, once opened for the outpouring of long suppressed sorrow, close no more to force it back upon the surcharged heart, and before I knew what I was doing I was folded to her bosom and weeping out the long pent up load of grief that had been gnawing at my heartstrings. As I looked up into her face, I could see the cordial, heartfelt sympathy reflected from her beautiful countenance as she whispered: