The Bishop paled again: "My God," he muttered--"but she mustn't know this is Cap'n Tom! I'd ruther she'd think he's dead--to remember him only as she knowed him last." The man's eyes were riveted on her--they seemed to devour her as she rode up, a picture of grace and beauty, sitting her cantering mare with the ease of long years of riding. She smiled and nodded brightly at the Bishop, as she cantered past, but scarcely glanced at the man beside him. Travis followed at a brisk gait: "Hello, Bishop," he said banteringly--"got a new boarder to-day?" He glanced at the man as he spoke, and then galloped on without turning his head. "Alice!--Alice!"--whispered the man, holding out his hands pleadingly, in the way he had held them when he first saw the Bishop. "Alice!"--but she disappeared behind a turn in the road. She had not noticed him. The Bishop was relieved. "We'll go home, Cap'n Tom--you'll want for nothin' whilst I live. An' who knows--ay, Cap'n Tom, who knows but maybe God has sent you here to-day to begin the unraveling of the only injustice I've ever knowed Him to let go so long. It 'ud be so easy for Him--He's done bigger things than jes' to straighten out little tangles like that. Cap'n Tom! Cap'n Tom!" he said excitedly--"God'll do it--God'll do it--for He is just!" As he turned to go a negro came up hurriedly: "I was fetchin' him to you, Marse Hillard--been lookin' for yo' home all day. I had gone to the spring for water an' 'lowed I'd be back in a minute." "Why, it's Eph," said the Bishop. "Come on to my home, Eph, we'll take keer of Cap'n Tom." It was Sunday night. They had eaten their supper, and the old man was taking his smoke before going to bed. Shiloh, as usual, had climbed up into his lap and lay looking at the distant line of trees that girdled the mountain side. There was a flush on her cheeks and a brightness in her eyes which the old man had noticed for several weeks. Shiloh was his pet--his baby. All the affection of his strong nature found its outlet in this little soul--this motherless little waif, who likewise found in the old man that rare comradeship of extremes--the inexplicable law of the physical world which brings the snow-flower in winter. The one real serious quarrel the old man had had with his stubborn and ignorant old wife had been when Shiloh was sent to the factory. But it was always starvation times with them; and when aroused, the temper and tongue of Mrs. Watts was more than the peaceful old man could stand up against. And as there were a dozen other tots of her age in the factory, he had been forced to acquiesce. Long after all others had retired--long after the evening star had arisen, and now, high overhead, looked down through the chinks in the roof of the cabin on the mountain side, saying it was midnight and past, the patient old man sat with Shiloh on his lap, watching her quick, restless breathing, and fearing to put her to bed, lest he might awaken her.