friend in the world."

The man heaved a heavy sigh, for too well he realized the truth of her
words.

"My dear," he returned, with tender pathos, "if it were possible for me to
regain my health, at any sacrifice, I would gladly make it for your sake.
But I know that it cannot be, and my care now must be to make the best
provision that I can for you."

"I have been very successful since coming here," he went on, speaking more
cheerfully, "more so than I ever dared to hope, and the claim promises
much for the future and ought to bring a good price if sold; so you will
have quite a snug little fortune, my Virgie, and I trust that your lot in
life will yet be happy, in spite of the dark cloud that has so shadowed it
in the beginning. What say you to writing to my old friend, Laurence
Bancroft, of New York, confiding you to his care after----"

"Oh, my father, you make me utterly wretched," cried the young girl,
reaching up her arms and clasping them convulsively about his neck, while
she lifted her tear-stained face appealingly to him.

He bent forward and kissed her white forehead softly with his trembling
lips.

"Bear with me a little longer, my daughter, and then we will never mention
this again while I live," he returned, huskily. "Laurence Bancroft, as you
know, was a dear friend of my early life. He has a cultivated wife, and
two daughters about your own age; he will believe me when I tell him the
truth regarding our misfortunes, and will, no doubt, give you a home in