“Poor child! brave little woman!” thought the man by her side, “it must have been very much like being buried alive, and she has borne it like a heroine; but she will not have to endure it much longer ‘for her father.’  I wonder what will become of her when he is gone.”

“Mr. Abbot seems very feeble,” he said aloud, “do you not think a change would be beneficial to him?”

“I—­do not know,” Virgie began wistfully; then added, more to herself than to him, “Where could we go?”

“I would advise the sea-shore.  I should think the salt air would do him good.  Santa Cruz, Monterey, or any of those places on the California coast, would be both pleasant and healthful.”

A startled look came into Virgie’s eyes, and her face grew pale.

She had often been to Santa Cruz and Monterey, in the old delightful days when her mother was living, where she had reigned like a little queen, and they had all been so happy, with no suspicion of the black shadow that was creeping upon them so surely.

“No, no, we could not go there; I—­I do not believe that papa could be persuaded to leave home,” she faltered with evident nervousness and embarrassment.

“There is a sad history and a secret here,” said Mr. Heath to himself, and he wondered more than ever what cruel misfortune could have driven these people thus into exile.

“Has Mr. Abbot ever consulted a physician?” he asked.

“No; there is no physician near us.  But papa understands something of medicine himself,” Virgie answered, sighing, for her heart was very heavy whenever she thought of her father’s condition, and it was evident to her that Mr. Heath considered him to be in a very critical state.

He saw that it troubled her to talk about it, and resolved that he would not refer to the subject again.

As they stood there the gorgeous tints faded out of the western sky, a purplish haze settled over mountain and valley, like a gauzy vail softening all their outlines, and a mist was beginning to rise from the depths below.

“The dew is falling, Miss Abbot.  I fear you will take cold in this dampness.  Shall I take you back now?” Mr. Heath asked.

“Yes.  I think it will be hardly safe for us to linger longer,” she replied.  “But, Mr. Heath, be careful as you go down; the path is not altogether safe.”

The young man laughed lightly.

“I have scaled greater heights, climbed steeper and more rugged paths than these, Miss Abbot,” he said.  “The Alps, the Pyrenees, the Caucasus, are all familiar ground, and this is but child’s play compared with them.”

“Oh, then you have been in Europe?” Virgie cried, with animation.

“Yes, in almost every portion of it,” he answered, watching her kindly face with admiration.

“How favored you are,” she sighed wistfully.  “I have longed with a mighty longing to visit foreign lands.”

“Have you?  Perhaps some time your wish may be gratified.  I hope it may be,” he returned, in an earnest tone.  “Now give me your hand, and let me assist you down this slippery path.”