e look of sweet, wondering expectancy. I grew desperate.

"From a booming western city came reports of marvellous openings for
business men--of small investments bringing swift and large returns. I
placed my wife in the care of a good, motherly woman and bade her
good-by, while she, brave heart, without a tear, bade me God-speed. I
went there determined to win, to make a home to which I would bring both
wife and child later. For three months I made money, sending half to
her, and investing every cent which I did not absolutely need of the
other half. Then came tales from a mining district still farther west,
of fabulous fortunes made in a month, a week, sometimes a day. What was
the use of dallying where I was? I hastened to the mining camp. In less
than a week I had 'struck it rich,' and knew that in all probability I
would within a month draw out a fortune.

"Just at this time the letters from home ceased. For seven days I heard
nothing, and half mad with anxiety and suspense I awaited each night the
incoming train to bring me tidings. One night, just as the train was
about to leave, I caught sight of a former acquaintance from a
neighboring village, bound for a camp yet farther west, and, as I
greeted him, he told me in few words and pitying tones of the death of
my wife and child."

For a moment Mr. Britton paused, and Darrell drew instinctively nearer,
though saying nothing.

"I have no distinct recollection of what followed. I was told afterwards
that friendly hands caught me as the train started, to save me from
being crushed beneath the wheels. For three months I wandered from one
mining camp to another, working mechanically, with no thought or care as
to success or failure. An old miner from the first camp who had taken a
liking to me followed me in my wanderings and worked beside me, caring
for me and guarding my savings as though he had been a father. The old
fellow never left me, nor I him, until his death three years later. He
taught me many valuable points in practical mining, and I think his
rough but kindly care was all that saved me from insanity during those
years.

"After his death I brooded over my grief till I became nearly frenzied.
I could not banish the thought that but for my rashness and foolishness
in taking her from her home my wife might still have been living. To
myself I seemed little short of a murderer. I left the camp and
wandered, night and day, afar into the mountains. I came to