Bodine was not astray in thinking that his note would relieve Mara's mind. Sad and humiliated as she was, his words had taken her from a false position, and would enable her to give him the filial love and homage with which her heart overflowed. Even if Clancy escaped from his entanglement, which she much doubted, she felt that both should pay the penalty of their errors in long probation. As the afternoon wore away Mrs. Willoughby and Mrs. Bodine took some much-needed rest. Clancy went down town to look after his own affairs. Mr. Houghton had a consultation with his confidential man of business, at which George was present. Then the young fellow busied himself in perfecting the camp appointments and securing more provisions. Kern Watson and his family, Aun' Sheba and her husband, with old Tobe and a few friends and neighbors, knelt around the remains of little Vilet as Mr. Birdsall offered a prayer. Bodine, Ella, and George, with his two servants, were also present. Then the minister and a few others helped the stricken father to bury his child. After the brief service the captain told Ella that she must go and rest till he called her. George ventured to walk back with the tearful girl and to say, "Miss Bodine, you seem to have a hand to help and a heart to feel with every one." "I should be callous indeed," she replied, "if I did not grieve at the death of that little girl. She aided in my effort to earn a livelihood. I saw her daily, and no one could help becoming fond of her, she was so good, and gentle, and quiet. Her poor father--how I pity him! The mute anguish in his face was overpowering. He is the most quiet, but he grieves the most, and will never get over it." "I think you are right, Miss Bodine. I don't believe your intuitions would often lead you astray." "I am very matter-of-fact," Ella replied. "If I admit that, I must also add that one would have to do his level best to furnish the kind of facts you would approve of." "And I must also add, Mr. Houghton, that you are furnishing them in plenty. I can never try to thank you, for I shouldn't know where to begin, or when to leave off." "Please leave off now. Oh, Miss Bodine! I am so grateful for your kindness to my father, and he is just as pleased as I am." "Ah! I've at last caught you in a bit of selfishness," she said with a piquant smile. "You would keep the privilege of thanking people while denying it to me;" and she vanished before he could reply. "Oh!" he groaned inwardly, "if any of these Southern fellows carry her off, I'm done for."