n its expression, and she looked at me
with just the most pitiably sweet smile in the world.

"I'm sorry I startled you; but I wanted to thank you for your letter and
for your sympathy."

It was the same clear voice, with the throb of tender feeling in it.

"You see, I'm all alone now." The voice faltered, but went on bravely.
"I've got no one that cares about me any more, and I've been sick, so
sick I wonder I lived. I knew you'd forgotten me, and I don't blame you.
But I've never forgotten you, and I wanted to see you just once more."

She was speaking quite calmly and unemotionally.

"Berna!" I cried; "don't say that. Your reproach hurts me so. Indeed I
did try to find you, but it's such a vast camp. There are so many
thousands of people here. Time and again I inquired, but no one seemed
to know. Then I thought you must surely have gone back, and it's been
such a busy time, building our boat and getting ready. No, Berna, I
didn't forget. Many's and many's a night I've lain awake thinking of
you, wondering, longing to see you again--but haven't you forgotten a
little?"

I saw the sensitive lips smile almost bitterly.

"No! not even a little."

"Oh! I'm sorry, Berna. I'm sorry I've looked after you so badly. I'll
never forgive myself. You've been terribly sick, too. What a little
white whisp you are! You look as if a breeze would blow you away. You
shouldn't be out this night, girl. Put my coat around you, come now."

I wrapped her in it and saw with gladness her shivering cease. As I
buttoned it at her throat I marvelled at the thinness of her, and at the
delicacy of her face. In the opal light of the luminous sky her great
grey eyes were lustrous.

"Berna," I said again, "why did you come in here, why? You should have
gone back."

"Gone back," she repeated; "indeed I would have, oh, so gladly. But you
don't understand--they wouldn't let me. After they had got all his
money--and they _did_ get it, though they swear he had nothing--they
made me come on with them. They said I owed them for his burial, and for
the care and attention they gave me when I was sick. They said I must
come on with them and work for them. I protested, I struggled. But
what's the use? I can't do anything against them any more. I'm weak, and
I'm terribly afraid of her."

She shuddered, then a look of fear came into her eyes. I put my hand on
her arm and drew her close to me.

"I just slipped away to-night. She thinks I'm asleep in