would make should be faced
in solitude.

"Is she right, uncle, dearest? Shall I take it away to read?"

His eyes assented, and the tender, reassuring pressure of his hand.

"Then I'm going to your own mountain top with it. To think of having a
letter from you, right here at home! Why, I can hardly wait! I'm so
thankful to you for it, and so thankful to God that you are getting
well. That you will be soon; and then--why, then--we'll go a-fishing!"

A spasm of pain crossed the sick man's wasted features and poor
Angelique fled the place, forgetful of her own caution to "be still as
still," and with her own dark face convulsed with grief for the grief
which the letter would bring to her idolized Margot.

But the girl had already gone away up the slope, faster and faster.
Surely a letter from nobody but her uncle and at such a solemn time
must concern but one subject--her father. Now she would know all, and
her happiness should have no limit.

But it was nightfall when she, at last, came down from the mountain,
and though there were no signs of tears upon her face neither was
there any happiness in it.

CHAPTER XIX

A QUESTION OF APPAREL

"The master."

"He wants me?"

Joe nodded and went out of doors. But it was noticeable that he merely
walked around to the rear of the sick room and stationed himself
beside the open window. Not that he might overhear the conversation
within, but to be near if he were needed. He cast one stern look upon
Margot, as he summoned her, and was evidently reassured by her own
calmness.

Three days had passed since she had been given that fateful letter,
and she had had time to think over its startling contents in every
connection. There was now not the slightest blame of her guardian for
having so long kept her in ignorance of her father's existence; and,
indeed, her love had been strengthened, if that were possible. The
sick man had gained somewhat, though he was yet very weak and recovery
was still a question. But, with improvement, came again the terrible
restlessness and impatience with the circumstances which kept him a
prisoner in bed, when, of all times in the year, he would be up and
abroad.

When the child entered the room he was watching for her, eagerly,
anxiously. How had she borne his news? How would she greet him?

Her first glance answered him. It was so tender, so pitiful, so
strong.

"My darling! My own Margot! I--need not--have feared."

"There is