l alive; and
as I dressed I said continually, 'Thank God! thank God!' I must go to
Antony and tell him how sorry I am; then perhaps God will forgive me.
Will you go with me to Antony?"

"I will."

"Can you start to-morrow?"

"To-day, if you wish. We can reach New York by three o'clock, and
leave by to-night's train for the west. I will see your father and
mother, and do all that is necessary about your property, while you
pack such clothing as you require. Now shall Betta bring you a cup of
tea, for you look weary to death?"

"I have had nothing to eat to-day."

"Do you know where Antony is?"

"My lawyer knows--somewhere in Arizona, I think."

"No, he is nearer Denver. He went to Denver a month ago, about the
sale of some mining property, and in his last letter he told me he had
bought a shooting lodge south of Denver, from an English gentleman who
was returning to England, and that he intended to spend the summer
there. Through his agent in Denver we can find out the precise
location." Then he spoke hopefully to her of God's love, and of her
husband's love, but she was exceedingly depressed and sorrowful; and
though she drank her tea, she made it bitter with tears. For she could
not rid herself of that vision of her angel, hovering so tired and
hopeless, on the verge of a limit beyond her holy care.

"Oh, father!" she cried, "if I could only once more know that my head
was covered with her white wings! If the dear and great angel would
only let me feel her guarding me--me, out of all the world! I used to
know something about my Guardian Angel, but I had forgotten it for
many years, until this very moment. Just as I spoke to you, the last
lines flashed into my mind, as if all their letters were made of
light. Listen:

'Thou bird of God! And wilt thou bend me low,
And lay my hands together,
And lift them up to pray, and gently tether
Me, as thy lamb there, with thy garments spread?'"

So, with many tears and sad reflections, she drank a little tea; and
then Peter induced her to sleep an hour, because the journey would be
long and hard for her. But every mile of it was a tonic, and when she
reached the high tableland of Colorado, the color came back to her
cheeks, and she was able to eat and sleep, and in some ways enjoy the
travel. Peter watched over her with a father's care; nay, it was more
like a mother's never-wearying anxiety for her welfare and happiness;
and when Denver was reached, both wer