d--"

"Or have been murdered!" David broke out fiercely.

"No, no!" cried Ruth, shrinking closer to his side. "I could not bear to
think that."

But the boy went on, as if speaking thoughts which had long rankled in
bitter silence. "It isn't so bad as to believe that they deserted us, or
died without leaving a word. Fathers and mothers who love their children
well enough to bear them in their arms through hundreds of weary miles
over high mountains and down long rivers, and into the depths of the
wilderness, would never desert them at the hard journey's end. Fathers
and mothers who loved their children so dearly could hardly be taken
away by lightning so quickly that they would not leave behind a single
token of their love. And we have never seen a sign showing that ours
ever lived. There is something wrong--something unaccounted
for--something that we have not been permitted to know!"

"David, dear, dear David!"

"I have always believed it--ever since I have been able to think. As
soon as I am old enough to speak like a man, I mean to demand the truth
from Philip Alston!"

She dropped his hand and drew away from him with a look of wondering
distress. It was the one thing over which they had ever disagreed.

"You must never again say anything of that kind to me, David," she said
firmly. "I beg that you will never say it to any one, never even think
it. For in thinking it, let alone saying it, you are not only unjust,
but ungrateful. What possible object could Philip Alston have in
concealing anything that he might know about you and me? Hasn't he
always been our best friend?"

And then the quick anger which had flashed out of her loyalty turned to
gentle pleading.

"I can't bear a word said against him, dear. And it grieves me to see
you making yourself unhappy over such useless brooding. What does it
matter, after all--our knowing nothing about ourselves, who we are, or
where we came from? We are happy, everybody is kind and good to us."

They started at the sound of a voice calling her name, and they saw
William Pressley come out of the dark shadows beneath the trees, and
stand still, waiting for them to approach.

"It is late, my dear, for you to be roaming about the woods like this,"
he said, when they were near enough.

He used the term of endearment in the tone of calm, moderate reproof
which a justly displeased, but self-controlled husband sometimes uses.
And Ruth felt the resentment that every wom