mising nature, it had been said, and certainly it seemed so;
but as the carriage rolled along, there grew before her mind's eye the
vague, dim outlines of a vision,--a vision of a human creature hiding
in the dark swamps, fleeing through the deep woods, and creeping
swiftly through the pine thickets. It was a pathetic figure, this
fleeing human creature, whether chased by dogs and men or pursued only
by the terrors that hide themselves behind the vast shadows of the
night; and the figure grew more pathetic when, as it seemed, it sprang
out of the very elements themselves to snatch her son from the floods.
The old lady sighed and pressed her thin lips together. She had made up
her mind.

Presently the carriage drew up at the Kendrick Place; and in a little
while, after effusive greetings all around, Mrs. Denham was sitting at
Mrs. Kendrick's hearth listening to the story of her son's rescue. She
wanted to go in and see George at once, but Mrs. Kendrick would consent
only on condition that he was not to be aroused.

"It is foolish to say it," said the old lady, smiling at Kitty as she
came out of the room in which her son was sleeping; "but my son seems
to look to-night just as he did when a baby."

Kitty smiled such a responsive smile, and looked so young and
beautiful, that the proud old lady stooped and kissed her.

"I think I shall love you, my dear."

"I reckon I'll have to get even with you," said Mrs. Kendrick, who had
a knack of hiding her own emotion, "by telling George that I've fallen
in love with him."

This gave a light and half-humorous turn to affairs, and in a moment
Mrs. Denham was as prim and as uncompromising in appearance as ever.

"Well!" exclaimed Mrs. Kendrick, after she and Kitty had retired for
the night, "the day's worth living if only to find out that Rebecca
Denham has got a heart in her insides. I believe actually she'd 'a'
cried for a little."

"She did cry, mother," said Kitty, solemnly. "There were tears in her
eyes when she leaned over me."

"Well, well, well!" said Mrs. Kendrick, "she always put me in mind of a
ghost that can't be laid on account of its pride. But we're what the
Lord made us, I reckon, and people deceive their looks. My old turkey
gobbler is harmless as a hound puppy; but I reckon he'd bust if he
didn't up and strut when strangers are in the front porch."

With that Mrs. Kendrick addressed herself to her prayers and to
slumber; but Kitty lay awake a long time,