There came a day, however, when they missed him from among them. If he was not at one house he was surely at another, it appeared for some time; but when, after making his round of visits, the doctor did not find him, he became anxious. He might be at Janner's; but he was not there, nor among the miners, who had gradually resumed their work as the epidemic weakened its strength and their spirits lightened. Making these discoveries at nightfall, the doctor touched up his horse in some secret dread. He had learned earlier than the rest to feel warmly toward this simple co-laborer. “Perhaps he's gone out to pay Langley a visit,” he said: “I'll call and see. He may have stopped to have a rest.” But before he had passed the last group of cabins he met Langley himself, who by this time was well enough to resume his place in the small world, and, hearing his story, Langley's anxiety was greater than his own. “I saw him last night on my way home,” he said. “About this time, too, for I remember he was sitting in the moonlight at the door of his shanty. We exchanged a few words, as we always do, and he said he was there because he was not needed, and thought a quiet night would do him good. Is it possible no one has seen him since?” in sudden alarm. “Come with me,” said his companion. Overwhelmed by a mutual dread, neither spoke until they reached the shanty itself. There was no sign of human life about it: the door stood open, and the only sound to be heard was the rustle of the wind whispering among the pines upon the mountain side. Both men flung themselves from their horses with loudly-beating hearts. “God grant he is not here!” uttered Langley. “God grant he is anywhere else! The place is so drearily desolate.” Desolate indeed! The moonbeams streaming through the door threw their fair light upon the rough boards and upon the walls, and upon the quiet figure lying on the pallet in one of the corners, touching with pitying whiteness the homely face upon the pillow and the hand that rested motionless upon the floor. The doctor went down on his knees at the pallet's side, and thrust his hand into the breast of the coarse garments with a half-checked groan. “Asleep?” broke from Langley's white lips in a desperate whisper. “Not--not”-- “Dead!” said the doctor--“dead for hours!” There was actual anguish in his voice as he uttered the words, but another element predominated in the exclamation which burst from him scarcely a second later. “Good God!” he cried--“good God!” Langley bent down and caught him almost fiercely by the arm: the exclamation jarred upon him. “What is it?” he demanded, “What do you mean?” “It is--a woman!” Even as they gazed at each other in speechless questioning the silence was broken in upon. Swift, heavy footsteps neared the door, crossed the threshold, and Janner's daughter stood before them.