ng girl.

She looked back. "What can it be?" she cried, filial love returning
overmasteringly.

"Perhaps he is only tired." George affected carelessness,--his first
wish was to secure his bride,--and pulled hard away to get all
advantage from Bedell's halt.

"Tired! He is in danger of the Falls, then!" screamed Ruth. "Stop!
Turn! Back to him!"

Winthrop instantly prepared to obey. "Yes, darling," he said, "we must
not think of ourselves. We must go back to save him!" Yet his was a
sore groan at turning; what Duty ordered was so hard,--he must give up
his love for the sake of his enemy.

But while Winthrop was still pulling round, the old Loyalist resumed
rowing, with a more rapid stroke that soon brought him alongside.

In those moments of waiting, all Bedell's life, his personal hatreds,
his loves, his sorrows, had been reviewed before his soul. He had seen
again his sons, the slain in battle, in the pride of their young
might; and the gentle eyes of Ruth had pleaded with him beneath his
dead wife's brow. Into those beloved, unforgotten, visionary eyes he
looked with an encouraging, strengthening gaze,--now that the deed to
be done was as clear before him as the face of Almighty God. In
accepting it the darker passions that had swayed his stormy life fell
suddenly away from their hold on his soul. How trivial had been old
disputes! how good at heart old well-known civic enemies! how poor
seemed hate! how mean and poor seemed all but Love and Loyalty!

Resolution and deep peace had come upon the man.

The lovers wondered at his look. No wrath was there. The old eyes were
calm and cheerful, a gentle smile flickered about his lips. Only that
he was very pale, Ruth would have been wholly glad for the happy
change.

"Forgive me, father," she cried, as he laid hand on their boat.

"I do, my child," he answered. "Come now without an instant's delay to
me."

"Oh, father, if you would let us be happy!" cried Ruth, heart-torn by
two loves.

"Dear, you shall be happy. I was wrong, child; I did not understand
how you loved him. But come! You hesitate! Winthrop, my son, you are
in some danger. Into this boat instantly! both of you! Take the oars,
George. Kiss me, dear, my Ruth, once more. Good-bye, my little girl.
Winthrop, be good to her. And may God bless you both forever!"

As the old Squire spoke, he stepped into the larger boat, instantly
releasing the skiff. His imperative gentleness had secured his object
w