"What a life for such a woman!" thought Keith, sitting on the opposite side of the table, watching the flickering light of the one small candle playing upon Constance's face and hair. He admired this woman, who was living so bravely amid such dreary surroundings. Yes, he more than admired, for a sense of pity stole into his heart at the thought of her position, alone with her helpless father.
"You asked about my father," Constance at length began, fixing her eyes upon the missionary. "No, he was never a miner. Several years ago he was a prosperous business man in Vancouver. Our home was a happy one, where I tried to fill the place of my dear mother, who had died several years before. But I wished to be a nurse, and so attended the public hospital in that city.
"At the end of my second year, I was placed in charge of a man who had been terribly exposed on the trail. We did what we could to save his life, but in vain. When he learned that he could not recover, he one day confided to me a strange secret.
"He was a prospector, and had spent several years in the North along the Yukon Valley. One day he and a partner discovered a valuable ledge of gold far back from the river in an easterly direction. They filled their pockets with nuggets, and, as winter was fast approaching, and they had little food, they started for the coast. They had proceeded only a short distance when they were set upon by several Indians, who resented the intrusion of the white men into what they considered their rightful domain. One man was instantly killed, while the other escaped. After a terrible struggle he reached the coast, where a passing steamer took him on board, and landed him in Vancouver. Here he was at once taken to the hospital, and placed in my care.
"When the man had finished his story, he gave me a piece of paper, on which was sketched a rude map of the Yukon region, describing the exact spot where the gold was to be found. I will show you this paper; it is the one of which my father speaks.
"The next day the prospector died, and I laid the map away, and thought little of it at the time, being very busy with my work. When next I saw my father, I told him the whole story, and though he seemed interested, I little thought what an impression it would make upon his mind.
"A year later my father, suffered severe losses in his business, which caused him great worry. Then I found what an effect the prospector's story had made upon him. He had been thinking of it continually, and talked much with Kenneth, my only brother, about the matter. Both believed that the story was real, and that the gold was there, only waiting some one bold enough to go for it.
"When the financial trouble swept down upon us, my brother determined to start upon the quest, notwithstanding our entreaties to the contrary. He boarded a coast steamer for the North, and that was the last we heard of him.
"Oh, Mr. Steadman," and tears stood in her eyes, "you little know what he was to me. We were so much together, and after our mother's death I took charge of him almost entirely. He had a sweet disposition, and a lovable nature. Music was his passion, and often during the winter evenings, when we were all home, he would play by the hour upon the violin, his favorite instrument, which he carried away with him. Oh, if I can only find him! I am afraid something has happened to him in this wild country, for he was not used to roughing it. Suppose the poor boy should now be lying in some lonely cabin, sick and calling for me, or—I shudder to think of it—cold and still, with the snow his only covering."
During this recital a vivid scene passed before Keith's mind. He saw again the dreary Ibex cabin, the man huddled on the floor, and the grave in the snow. That he was Kenneth Radhurst, this woman's only brother, there could be no doubt. How could he tell her what he knew? Would it be right to add this intense sorrow to her present trouble? What should he do?