When he had partially recovered she asked: "Why did you not tell me this before, you might have had my sympathy all along." "I did not care to burden you with my griefs." "Trust in God." "I do; but this dark uncertainty; my helpless children." "They have their mother." "She is unpractical, knows nothing of life and is as helpless as the children.

The little money left her has been spent long before this, and they are--Heaven only knows what ills they may endure.

So long as I was with them, I shielded them from the rude blasts of the world; but now they are without a protector." [Illustration: BLANCHE COULD NOT UTTER A WORD OF CONSOLATION.] Overcome with the sad picture he had created in his mind, he buried his face again in his hands.

Once more Blanche sought to soothe his cares by assuring him that He who watched the sparrow's fall would in some way care for his loved ones at home.
The years rolled on, and day by day he climbed the top of the nearest hill and gazed off to the sea, hoping to discern a sail, but in vain.
He had brought the captain's glasses from the ship, and with this often gazed at the two islands toward the north with longing eyes.

Did they connect with the main land where people dwelt, and from which they might find means of transportation to the home which he sometimes feared he might never again behold?
"Would it be too dangerous to undertake a voyage to those islands ?" Blanche asked one day when they were gazing for the thousandth time at them.
"If we had a suitable boat we might attempt it." "How is our own boat ?" "Too frail.