"But I want you to say a word to me to let me know that you are
better."

"I am better,--much better."

"And you will see your mother again; will you not; and give baby to
her yourself?"

To this she made no immediate answer, for she was on a level with
the river, and the canoe was close at her feet. And then she had to
bid farewell to her brother. He was now the unfortunate one of the
party, for his destiny required that he should go back to San Jose
alone,--go back and remain there perhaps some ten years longer
before he might look for the happiness of home.

"God bless you, dearest Abel," she said, kissing him and sobbing as
she spoke.

"Good-bye, Fanny," he said, "and do not let them forget me in
England. It is a great comfort to think that the worst of your
troubles are over."

"Oh,--she's all right now," said Arkwright. "Good-bye, old boy,"--
and the two brothers-in-law grasped each other's hands heartily.
"Keep up your spirits, and we'll have you home before long."

"Oh, I'm all right," said the other. But from the tone of the
voices, it was clear that poor Ring was despondent at the thoughts
of his coming solitude, and that Arkwright was already triumphing in
his emancipation.