putation."

"Did you ever know anything kind or humane of him?"

"I never did."

"My name is Ruth Jameson. At present I am indebted to him for the only
shelter I have. His wife is ill through overwork and worry, and I am
paying for my bed and what I don't eat, principally, by attempting her
work. It scarcely would be fair to Uncle Henry to say that I do it. I
stagger around as long as I can stand, then I sit through his abuse. He
is a pleasant man. Please don't think I am telling you this to harrow
your sympathy further. The reason I explain is because I am driven. If I
do not, you will misjudge me when I say that I only can see you here.
I understood what you meant when you said Uncle Henry should have known
the price of ginseng if he knew it was for sale. He did. He knew what
he could get for it, and what he meant to pay me. That is one of his
original methods with a woman. If he thought I could earn anything worth
while, he would allow me, if I killed myself doing it; and then he would
take the money by force if necessary. So I can meet you here only. I can
earn just what I may in secret. He buys cattle and horses and is away
from home much of the day, and when Aunt Molly is comfortable I can have
a few hours."

"I understand," said the Harvester. "But this is an added hardship.
Why do you remain? Why subject yourself to force and work too heavy for
you?"

"Because his is the only roof on earth where I feel I can pay for all I
get. I don't care to discuss it, I only want you to say you understand,
if I ask you to bring the pamphlets here and tell me how I can earn
money."

"I do," said the Harvester earnestly, although his heart was hot in
protest. "You may be very sure that I will not misjudge you. Shall I
come at two o'clock to-morrow, Miss Jameson?"

"If you will be so kind."

The Harvester stepped aside and she passed him and crossing the rifled
ginseng patch went toward a low brown farmhouse lying in an unkept
garden, beside a ragged highway. The man sat on the log she had vacated,
held his head between his hands and tried to think, but he could not for
big waves of joy that swept over him when he realized that at last he
had found her, had spoken with her, and had arranged a meeting for the
morrow.

"Belshazzar," he said softly, "I wish I could leave you to protect
her. Every day you prove to me that I need you, but Heaven knows her
necessity is greater. Bel, she makes my heart ache until it feels l