ardly let me in, till I got her persuaded I
was an intimate friend. On reachin' the bedroom I saw by the looks o'
two women who were standin' there that it was serious. And so it was,
for there lay your poor mother, as pale as death; her eyes closed and
her lips white; but there was a sweet, contented smile on her face, and
her thin hands clasped her well-worn Bible to her breast."

Paul Bevan stopped, for the poor girl had burst into tears. For a time
he was silent and laid his heavy hand gently on her shoulder.

"I did not ventur' to speak to her," he continued, "an' indeed it would
have been of no use, for she was past hearin'. A few minutes later and
her gentle spirit went up to God.

"I had no time now to waste, for I knew that your brother would give
information that might be bad for me, so I asked the nurse to write
down, while I repeated it, the lawyer's address.

"`Now,' says I, `go there an' tell 'em what's took place. It'll be the
better for yourself if you do.' An' then I went straight off to
Brighton."

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

"Well, you must know," said Paul Bevan, continuing his discourse to the
Rose of Oregon, "when I got to Brighton I went to the school, told 'em
that your mother was just dead, and brought you straight away. I wasn't
an hour too soon, for, as I expected, your brother had given
information, an' the p'lice were on my heels in a jiffy, but I was too
sharp for 'em. I went into hidin' in London; an' you've no notion,
Betty, what a rare place London is to hide in! A needle what takes to
wanderin' in a haystack ain't safer than a feller is in London, if he
only knows how to go about the business.

"I lay there nigh three months, durin' which time my own poor child
Betty continued hoverin' 'tween life an death. At last, one night when
I was at the hospital sittin' beside her, she suddenly raised her sweet
face, an fixin' her big eyes on me, said--

"`Father, I'm goin' home. Shall I tell mother that you're comin'?'

"`What d'ye mean, my darlin'?' says I, while an awful thump came to my
heart, for I saw a great change come over her.

"`I'll be there soon, father,' she said, as her dear voice began to
fail; `have you no message for mother?'

"I was so crushed that I couldn't speak, so she went on--

"`You'll come--won't you, father? an' we'll be so glad to welcome you to
heaven. An' so will Jesus. Remember, He is the only door, father, no
name but that of Jesus--' She s