“Perhaps God will provide for us both.  Come on, dear, old brave fellow,” and then the faithful animal’s eyes lit up with almost human gratitude, and he ran on joyfully before her.

The tall trees waved their branches in the morning breeze, and their music touched her soul, and attuned it to sweeter harmony than it had known for years.  The flame of hope began to kindle anew.  There might be some one, after all, who would pity her, who would not wholly condemn her; while the music of the tall pines seemed like angel voices, saying:  “Yes, love her, pity her, and all on whom the blight of sorrow falls.”

She loved the music of the singing trees, and was grieved when the road turned off towards a hill, and she was obliged to part with the protection and seclusion which they afforded her.  But taking fresh courage from the guide-board, which indicated her approach to N—­, she travelled bravely on.  She had provided herself with provisions for a single day only, and had scarcely dared to take even that from the plenty of her father’s home.  Reaching a sheltered spot by the roadside, and feeling faint and weary, she sat down and shared her food with her dog.

Ten miles of her journey had been passed, and more rapidly than she could hope to continue, and she found that on a renewal of it, she must proceed more leisurely.

A sad, but interesting picture they made.  She, with her young, fair face, touched by lines of grief; the once dreamy eyes, so soft, now full of nervous fire, and wild with restless fear.  Her bonnet was thrown back from her shoulders, and the golden sun of morning touched her wavy hair, till it glowed and seemed like a halo of light about her pale brow.

When their little repast was over, she rested her head upon her hands, and from her soul went forth a prayer for guidance and protection,—­more deep and earnest than words can portray.

CHAPTER XIV.

Morning broke in all its splendor over the little village she had left behind.

Dewy flowers, touched by the rising day, glittered in their beds of green, while mists, etherial as air, hung over the verdant meadows.  Long lines of hills whose tops rested against the blue sky, mirrored their heads in the waters which flowed at their feet.

Beauty was on every hand.  In whatever direction the eye turned, it beheld the smile of God, and all nature seemed a psalm of thanksgiving.

Caleb Thorne arose, and shaking off dull sleep, called Margaret to her morning duties, while his wife bustled about the house in her usual manner.

Neither looked on the lovely scene before them.  If their eyes chanced to turn in its direction, their souls took no cognizance of all the wealth of beauty which was before them.

“What on earth keeps that gal up stairs so long,” said Mrs. Thorne, “I’ll call her and bring her down I guess,—­Mar-ga-ret-Mar-ga-ret Thorne; it’s most six o’clock-get up.”