The master, or Mr. Gray, as we may now call him as he draws near the close of his professional career, took the old trail through the forest, which led to M’liss’s former hiding-place. He walked on briskly, revolving in his mind the feasibility of leaving Smith’s Pocket. The late disaster, which would affect the prosperity of the settlement for some time to come, offered an excuse to him to give up his situation. On searching his pockets he found his present capital to amount to ten dollars. This increased by forty dollars, due him from the trustees, would make fifty dollars; deduct thirty dollars for liabilities, and he would have twenty dollars left to begin the world anew. Youth and hope added an indefinite number of ciphers to the right hand of these figures, and in this sanguine mood our young Alnaschar walked on until he had reached the old pine throne in the bank of the forest. M’liss was not there. He sat down on the trunk of the tree, and for a few moments gave himself up to the associations it suggested. What would become of M’liss after he was gone? But he quickly dropped the subject as one too visionary and sentimental for his then fiercely practical consideration, and, to prevent the recurrence of such distracting fancies, began to retrace his steps toward the settlement. At the edge of the woods, at a point where the trail forked toward the old site of Smith’s Pocket, he saw M’liss coming toward him. Her ordinary pace on such occasions was a kind of Indian trot; to his surprise she was walking slowly, with her apron thrown over her head,—an indication of meditation with M’liss and the usual way in which she excluded the outer world in studying her lessons. When she was within a few feet of him he called her by name. She started as she recognized him. There was a shade of seriousness in her dark eyes, and the hand that took his was listless and totally unlike her old frank, energetic grasp. “You look worried, M’liss,” said Mr. Gray soothingly, as the old sentimental feeling crept over his heart. “What’s the matter now?” M’liss replied by seating herself on the bank beside the road, and pointed to a place by her side. Mr. Gray took the proffered seat. M’liss then, fixing her eyes on some distant part of the view, remained for some moments in silence. Then, without turning her head or moving her eyes, she asked:— “What’s that they call a girl that has money left her?” “An heiress, M’liss?” “Yes, an heiress.” “Well?” said Mr. Gray. “Well,” said M’liss, without moving her eyes, “I’m one,—I’m a heiress!” “What’s that, M’liss?” said Mr. Gray laughingly. M’liss was silent again. Suddenly turning her eyes full upon him, she said:— “Can you keep a secret?” “Yes,” said Mr. Gray, beginning to be impressed by the child’s manner. “Listen, then.”