re it not that her home is to be so close
at hand.

There is one thing, however, about which Helen is sensitive. She cannot
rid herself of a feeling that she is in a manner bound to you on
account of her foolish and impetuous words, uttered under the
excitement of your departure; but I am sure you would never think of
holding her because of those words, uttered in a moment of great
feeling, and I also feel sure that you would not in any way interfere
with her happiness, or do anything that would hinder the consummation
of a marriage so eminently suitable in every way.

We hear of you and of your work occasionally. It must be a terrible
country, and a very depressing life. The loneliness and isolation must
be well-nigh overwhelming. I am sure you have all our sympathy. I
suppose work of this kind must be done, and it is a good thing that
there are men of such rugged strength and such courage as you have, who
seem to be fitted for this kind of work.

Now, my dear Mr. Macgregor, in your answer I think that a few words of
assurance to Helen on the points I have suggested would be greatly
appreciated, and would do much to remove difficulties that now stand in
the way of her happiness and mine.

Yours very sincerely,

E. Fairbanks.

It was then that Shock drank to the dregs his full cup of bitter
sorrow. The contrasts suggested by Mrs. Fairbanks' letter stood out
vividly before him. He thought of Helen's beautiful home, where she was
surrounded with all the luxuries of a cultured life; he thought of her
circle of friends, of the life work to which, as Lloyd's wife, she
would be permitted to take up; he thought, too, of her mother's claim
upon her. And then he looked about upon his bare room, with its log
walls, its utter absence of everything that suggested refinement; he
thought of the terrible isolation that in these days had become so
depressing even to himself; he thought of all the long hours of weary
yearning for the sight and touch of all that he held dear, and for the
sake of the girl to whom he had given his heart's love in all its
unsullied purity and in all its virgin freshness he made his decision.
He took up his cross, and though his heart bled he pressed his lips
upon it.

His letter to Mrs. Fairbanks was brief and clear.

"I thank you for your sympathy," he wrote, "and I grieve with you in
your great sorrow."

"In regard to what you write concerning Miss Helen, you have made
yourself perfectly clea