"There is a sad history and a secret here," said Mr. Heath to himself, and he wondered more than ever what cruel misfortune could have driven these people thus into exile.
"Has Mr. Abbot ever consulted a physician?" he asked.
"No; there is no physician near us. But papa understands something of medicine himself," Virgie answered, sighing, for her heart was very heavy whenever she thought of her father's condition, and it was evident to her that Mr. Heath considered him to be in a very critical state.
He saw that it troubled her to talk about it, and resolved that he would not refer to the subject again.
As they stood there the gorgeous tints faded out of the western sky, a purplish haze settled over mountain and valley, like a gauzy vail softening all their outlines, and a mist was beginning to rise from the depths below.
"The dew is falling, Miss Abbot. I fear you will take cold in this dampness. Shall I take you back now?" Mr. Heath asked.
"Yes. I think it will be hardly safe for us to linger longer," she replied. "But, Mr. Heath, be careful as you go down; the path is not altogether safe."
The young man laughed lightly.
"I have scaled greater heights, climbed steeper and more rugged paths than these, Miss Abbot," he said. "The Alps, the Pyrenees, the Caucasus, are all familiar ground, and this is but child's play compared with them."
"Oh, then you have been in Europe?" Virgie cried, with animation.