His voice was deep and thick as he answered slowly,-- "No, Rotha, it was not." "_Not_ father ?" cried the girl; "you know it was not ?" "I _know_ it was not." The voice again was not the voice of one who brings glad tidings, but the words were themselves full of gladness for the ear on which they fell, and Rotha seemed almost overcome by her joy.

She clutched Ralph's arm with both hands.
"Heaven be praised!" she said; "now I can brave anything--poor, poor father!" After this the girl almost leapt over the frozen road in the ecstasy of her new-found delight.

The weight of weary months of gathering suspense seemed in one moment to have fallen from her forever.

Half laughing, half weeping, she bounded along, the dog sporting beside her.

Her quick words rippled on the frosty air.