ied me. You trust
me?"

"Absolutely."

"Master Farwell trusted me. As things were, the only comfort I could give
my poor parents was to let them think I left Kenmore with--with a young
man. Something had occurred that--looked wrong. It was only a terrible
experience. No one helped me but Master Farwell. My--my people turned
from me."

"It was Farwell's way: to help where he had faith," murmured Boswell.

The deep eyes were so perilously kind that Priscilla had to struggle to
keep back her tears. A sense of security and peace flooded her heart, but
the past strain had left its mark.

"My father would have been glad to have me marry the--the man. I would
rather have died after what happened! They--my father and mother--must
believe I have gone with him. It will at least make them feel I have not
disgraced them. Now--you can understand!"

"Perfectly."

"I want to go into training. I want to be a nurse. I am sure I can
succeed."

So very humble and modest was the ambition that it quite took Boswell by
surprise. Priscilla did not notice the uplifting of the shaggy brows. She
went on eagerly, thoughtfully:

"You see, I have only such education as Master Farwell has given me, but
I have a ready mind, he says. I am sure I could watch and tend the sick.
A lady staying in Kenmore at one time told me I had the--the touch of a
skilled hand. I want--to help the world, somehow, and this seems the only
way open to a girl like me. I am strong; I never tire. Yes; I want to be
a nurse, the best one I can be."

Boswell understood the deeper truth. This girl, original, artistic, was
foregoing much in accepting this safe, humble course. She expected no
charity, nothing but a helpful interest. It was unusual and delightful.

"I have a hundred dollars that Master Farwell gave me. It will help, and
I can repay it by and by. I know it will be years before I can do so, but
he understands. While I am studying there will be little expense, the
lady told me. And oh!"--here Priscilla interrupted herself suddenly--"I
have an errand to do for Master Farwell as soon as I get to New York. He
told me you--would help me."

"An errand?"

"Yes. There is a--woman he once--loved; loves still. She thinks he--is
dead. It was best so in the past. There was a reason for letting her
believe so; but now he wants her--to know!"

Boswell sprang up in his chair as if he were on a strong spring.

"Wants you to go and tell her--that he still lives?"