tried again."

"She wasn't worthy of you, Thorn; you jest forgit her."

"I wish I could! I wish I could!" in his voice quivered an almost
passionate regret, and a great sob heaved his chest, as he turned
his face away to hide the love and longing, still so tender and so
strong.

"Don't say that, Dick; such fidelity should make us charitable for
its own sake. There is always time for penitence, always a certainty
of pardon. Take heart, Thorn, you may not wait in vain, and she may
yet return to you."

"I know she will! I've dreamed of it, I've prayed for it; every
battle I come out of safe makes me surer that I was kept for that,
and when I've borne enough to atone for my part of the fault, I'll
be repaid for all my patience, all my pain, by finding her again.
She knows how well I love her still, and if there comes a time when
she is sick and poor and all alone again, then she'll remember her
old John, then she'll come home and let me take her in."

Hope shone in Thorn's melancholy eyes, and long-suffering
all-forgiving love beautified the rough, brown face, as he folded
his arms and bent his gray head on his breast, as if the wanderer
were already come.

The emotion which Dick scorned to show on his own account was freely
manifested for another, as he sniffed audibly, and, boy-like, drew
his sleeve across his eyes. But Phil, with the delicate perception