being a lovely summer afternoon, the couch of Mornie was lifted out on
the ledge, and she lay there basking in the sunlight, drinking in the
pure air, and looking bravely ahead in the daylight as she had in the
darkness, for her couch commanded a view of the mountain flank. And,
lying there, she dreamed a pleasant dream, and in her dream saw Rand
returning up the mountain-trail. She was half conscious that he had good
news for her; and, when he at last reached her bedside, he began gently
and kindly to tell his news. But she heard him not, or rather in her
dream was most occupied with his ways and manners, which seemed unlike
him, yet inexpressibly sweet and tender. The tears were fast coming in
her eyes, when he suddenly dropped on his knees beside her, threw away
Rand's disguising hat and coat, and clasped her in his arms. And by that
she KNEW it was Ruth.

But what they said; what hurried words of mutual explanation and
forgiveness passed between them; what bitter yet tender recollections
of hidden fears and doubts, now forever chased away in the rain of tears
and joyous sunshine of that mountain-top, were then whispered;
whatever of this little chronicle that to the reader seems strange and
inconsistent (as all human record must ever be strange and imperfect,
except to the actors) was then made clear,--was never divulged by them,
and must remain with them forever. The rest of the party had withdrawn,
and they were alone. But when Mornie turned, and placed the baby in its
father's arms, they were so isolated in their happiness, that the lower
world beneath them might have swung and drifted away, and left that
mountain-top the beginning and creation of a better planet.

*****

"You know all about it now," said Sol the next day, explaining the