with God.

"Mabel, my child!" he at length uttered, in a voice which seemed to be
reviving,--"Mabel, I'm quitting you." The spirit at its great and final
passage appears ever to consider the body as nothing. "I'm quitting you,
my child; where is your hand?"

"Here, dearest father--here are both--oh, take both!"

"Pathfinder," added the Sergeant, feeling on the opposite side of the
bed, where Jasper still knelt, and getting one of the hands of the young
man by mistake, "take it--I leave you as her father--as you and she may
please--bless you--bless you both!"

At that awful instant, no one would rudely apprise the Sergeant of his
mistake; and he died a minute or two later, holding Jasper's and Mabel's
hands covered by both his own. Our heroine was ignorant of the fact
until an exclamation of Cap's announced the death of her father; when,
raising her face, she saw the eyes of Jasper riveted on her own, and
felt the warm pressure of his hand. But a single feeling was predominant
at that instant, and Mabel withdrew to weep, scarcely conscious of what
had occurred. The Pathfinder took the arm of Eau-douce, and he left the
block.

The two friends walked in silence past the fire, along the glade, and
nearly reached the opposite shore of the island in profound silence.
Here they stopped, and Pathfinder spoke.

"'Tis all over, Jasper," said he,--"'tis all over. Ah's me! Poor
Sergeant Dunham has finished his march, and that, too, by the hand of a
venomous Mingo. Well, we never know what is to happen, and his luck may
be yourn or mine to-morrow or next day!"

"And Mabel? What is to become of Mabel, Pathfinder?"

"You heard the Sergeant's dying words; he has left his child in my care,
Jasper; and it is a most solemn trust, it is; yes,--it is a most solemn
trust."

"It's a trust, Pathfinder, of which any man would be glad to relieve
you," returned the youth, with a bitter smile.

"I've often thought it has fallen into wrong hands. I'm not consaited,
Jasper; I'm not consaited, I do think I'm not; but if Mabel Dunham is
willing to overlook all my imperfections and ignorances like, I should
be wrong to gainsay it, on account of any sartainty I may have myself
about my own want of merit."

"No one will blame you, Pathfinder, for marrying Mabel Dunham, any more
than they will blame you for wearing a precious jewel in your bosom that
a friend had freely given you."

"Do you think they'll blame Mabel, lad? I've had my misgiv