would die rather than break it--in which, when it becomes fixed in an earnest nature, there is sometimes a touch of folly or injustice--and I can recall many small incidents as a proof of his possession of this quality." "But he has written to you at last, father?" "Yes, Nansie." "In a kindly spirit?" "Yes, I am thankful to say." "This is good. Is my uncle married?" "No. In our last interview he vowed that he would never marry, and I doubt whether he would ever have yielded to the sentiment of love had his heart been again that way inclined. I deeply regret it. Life without love is at best a barren affair." With a sweet look Nansie raised her dewy eyes to his. He divined what, in the darkness, he could not clearly see. "It must be an honorable, honest, earnest love, child. You understand that?" "I understand it, father." "We will renew the subject another time. I am tired, and night has fallen. It is almost like summer--the sweetest spring in my remembrance. There is a fascination in shadows--spiritual suggestions and possibilities which cannot occur to the mind in sunlight. The night is dark and beautiful: "'And silence girt the wood. No warbling tongue Talked to the echo, And all the upper world lay in a trance.' "Life is a dream, dear child. May yours be a happy one!" Then they did not speak for many minutes, and then it was Nansie's voice that was first heard. "What did you say to my uncle in the letter you wrote to him, father?" "I spoke to him of my illness, and of you. When your mother died I wrote informing him; but he took no notice of my letter. This time I appealed to him. I said, if anything happened to me you would be without a home. His answer is that you can find a home with him. My mind is greatly relieved. Now, my dear child, we will retire." "I will see to the beds, father. I shall not be long." She ascended the little flight of wooden steps, and the next moment a light from within the caravan was shining through one of the windows. This delightfully primitive dwelling-house contained three rooms or compartments. One was the kitchen, where the meals were cooked, and, in bad weather, partaken of. The other two were the sleeping-apartments of Nansie and her father. In each of these bedrooms was a window with a double sash, opening up and down.