"We never meant her any real harm," the elder of the two said humbly; "but we have learned our lesson, and I think we shall neither of us forget it. Young lady, we beg your pardon."
Then they lifted their hats and went away; and George Haygarth drew his daughter's hand through his arm and walked on, telling his story as he walked.
He had been unsuccessful at first. For more than eighteen months he had scarcely been able to keep himself alive. Fever had wasted him, plans had failed him, hope had deserted him. The very first money he could possibly spare he had sent home, with a long loving letter to the absent, over whom his heart yearned. But money and letter had both come back to him after a while, from the dead-letter office.
"Yes," Olive said, "we were too poor to keep on there after the year for which you paid was out, and we have moved two or three times since then. The postman did not know where to find us, and after the first year we gave up asking for letters at the office."
Her father's hand clasped hers tighter, in sympathy, and then he told the rest of his story.
He had never been very prosperous, never seen any such golden chances as the mining legends picture, but he had come home better off than he ever should have been if he had stayed in the East.
For a whole week he had been in Boston searching for them everywhere, and no knowing how much longer he might have had to wait but for this accident.
"Don't say accident, father," Olive answered, softly. "It was God's way of bringing us together. I begin to see now what it means when the Bible says, 'He is touched by our infirmities, and pities our necessities.' And yet, only this afternoon I was losing all my faith, and thinking that if He cared for all the rest of the world. He had forgotten me. Here we are,—the next house is home."
"Your mother—how will she receive me, Olive?"
Olive's heart seemed to stand still. Her mother had been so bitter through all these years; had said such cruel things about this man, whom she accused of deserting his family and leaving them to starve, of caring only for himself. She did not speak,—she did not know what to say.