He thanked her, shook hands warmly with her, and then left the house,
followed by Mr. Abbot, who watched him depart with a feeling of regret
such as he had not experienced over any one during all the years of his
exile.

Still he pleasantly anticipated his coming again, when he meant to make
him remain several days.

He had been strangely attracted toward him from the moment when he had
first heard his mellow, sympathetic tones, asking to be directed to a
place of shelter. He knew that he possessed a grand character, for he
carried the stamp of true nobility upon his frank, handsome face.

"That is a promising young man, Virgie," he said, as he returned to the
parlor after watching the horse and its rider disappear down the mountain.
"I should like to know where he came from, and more about him."

Virgie did not reply, but she turned away from the window where she, too,
had been watching the receding horseman, with a shy, sweet smile on her
red lips. William Heath's last glance had been for her, as he doffed his
hat and bowed low in his saddle when he turned down the road.

During all the week that followed her step was lighter and her face
brighter than its wont, and she went singing about the house to the
delight of her father, who was now at home all the day long, as he had
given up going to the mine.

Mr. Abbot had appeared very thoughtful after the departure of his young
guest, often falling into a profound reverie, in which he would sit for