"But I know why he did not so," she said softly to herself.

"He is not one to speak of his good deeds." She turned toward MacLean, who was attentively watching her, "But I may speak of them," she said, with pride.

"I have known Mr.Haward for years and years.

He saved my life; he brought me here from the Indian country; he was, he is, so kind to me!" Since the afternoon beneath the willow-tree, Haward, while encouraging her to speak of her long past, her sylvan childhood, her dream memories, had somewhat sternly checked every expression of gratitude for the part which he himself had played or was playing, in the drama of her life.

Walking in the minister's orchard, sitting in the garden or upon the terrace of Fair View house, drifting on the sunset river, he waved that aside, and went on to teach her another lesson.